Refractions
by Lea Benoit
Summary: HP/DM. Draco Malfoy can't remember how he got it, why he wanted it, or why Death Eaters are swooping down on him, all he knows is he has to get this bloody ring to Potter. Oh, and did he mention he's lost his magic? Rated for an excess of naughty words.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **whoohoo! This is my first multi-chaptered fanfiction. I hope you'll like! Beta-ed by Sofia.

* * *

><p><strong>Refractions<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Monday, 21st December 1998<br>2:14pm**

Harry shut the door and leaned against it heavily, eyes sliding shut and basking in the warmth of Grimmauld Place. Over the summer holidays, the Weasleys had cleaned and overturned the dark Black residence, transforming it with freshly painted walls, gleaming wooden floors and the wonderful silence in the hallway since the removal of Walburga Black's portrait. He'd protested violently, not wanting to cause them any more trouble after the death of Fred, which only seemed to spur Mrs. Weasley on further. Eventually, he resigned to his fate and had set about breaking through the cobwebs surrounding the house. Now, this was _home_.

"Something on your mind, mate?" He opened his eyes to see Ron and Hermione looking worriedly back at him, standing in the doorway to the kitchen and leaving their trunks abandoned in the hallway. He smiled at them and shook his head, heaving himself off the wall and moving to join them. Hermione took his arm and they stood to gaze at the kitchen. The dining table stood proudly in the centre and most of the chairs remained skewed from the last time–

"It's almost like Dumbledore– or even Kingsley, I don't know– it's like they're going to call an Order meeting any time now," Harry muttered. They stood together, allowing the sense of nostalgia wash over them. Ron slung an arm casually around Harry's shoulders and patted him awkwardly. "You did it, though," he said. "You'd have made him proud."

Hermione sniffled a bit but stepped away toward the fireplace. "I'm so sorry, Harry, but we've got to visit Molly for a bit," she said, apologetic. "We'll be back soon." Ron groaned and stuffed his hands in his pockets, dreading the thought of his mum and girlfriend together in the same room. She threw him a withering look and he immediately moved to take her hand.

"The Burrow," she called confidently, throwing the powder into the flames. They disappeared into the fire and Harry waved them off as they disappeared. He gingerly pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, resting his head in his hands as he stared across the room at a picture of the marauders, the four teenagers laughing in the courtyard.

_It__'__s __over,_ he thought, walking to pick the photo up, gazing at his father's face. _And __I__'__m__ still __here._

**Monday, 21st December 1998  
>2:17pm<strong>

"It's got to be here somewhere," he muttered to himself, opening the door into the study. He picked a stack of paper up, running his finger down the side of the manuscripts. Severus must have hidden–

Draco cursed and flinched away, examining the paper cut. He stared at the bright red line on his finger marking his pale skin and sighed, swiping off the bead of blood beginning to form. Satisfied, he returned to searching the desk, quickly flipping open books and peering carefully at Severus' tidy script, hoping that any kind of clue would present itself soon.

"_Lumos,_" he whispered, holding his wand aloft. It didn't light. "_Lumos,_" he tried again, harder. The familiar glowing tip did not appear and Draco's heart sank. "_Lumos __maxima,_" he flicked his wand this time, willing it to light. He flung his wand aside and continued to sift through the parchment covering the tabletop, searching for the scrap of paper when–

"He can't have gotten far," he heard the voice faintly. His eyes widened in alarm and he lunged to grab his wand and a cloak off the floor, pulling it on desperately and watching over his shoulder. And then, there it was, fluttering to the ground. Snatching it out of the air and checking the chain around his neck, he ran, the ink glinting in the moonlight shining through the windows.

_The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

**Wednesday, 23rd December 1998  
>7:30am<strong>

He ducked another flying streak of red light, pulling his feet through the snow as fast as he could. Unclasping his cloak, he let it fly off his shoulders, leaving it in a crumpled heap as he ran on, trying to keep his eyes open against the snow. His hair fell into his eyes, snow clouded his vision, he was soaked to the skin in melting frost and just about ready to collapse.

Looking up into the bleak sky and grasping the bars of the gate around the park, he tried to reorientate himself before Rowle and the other Death Eaters could catch up. Then he saw it– Grimmauld Place– and he could have cried in relief. Moving quickly out of the way of more light, he braced himself and dashed down the road, leaving deep footsteps in his wake.

"What the fuck?" Draco gaped as his eyes darted between number eleven on his left and number thirteen on his right, glancing warily at the muggles who were now watching him. Rowle and the others came around the corner and he thought hard about Dumbledore's elegant cursive on he paper. _The __Headquarters __of__ the__ Order __of __the __Phoenix __may __be __found__–_

His knees buckled as the building began to shift. He forced himself upright and backed himself against the wall, willing Potter's hero senses to activate and come and save him _now._ He watched them approach with predatory grins on their faces, squeezing his eyes shut and praying that whoever was listening sent him to heaven for his troubles.

**Wednesday, 23rd December 1998  
>7:31am<strong>

"Harry! Harry!" Hermione was shaking him now, he thought. Perhaps if he laid still, she would go away. Soon, the shaking stopped and he smiled into his pillow. Then, the sensation of an ice bucket dumped on his head flooded through him and he bolted upright as Hermione yelled in his ear. "Someone's outside!"

Harry started groping around for his glasses, only just noticing the faint blaring of the alarms in the house. _The __wards,_ his sleepy mind supplied helpfully. He rubbed his eyes and put them on, reaching over to get his jeans off the floor and pull them on, barely noticing Hermione tapping her foot and crossing her arms impatiently.

"Who the bloody hell comes knocking at–" Ron cast a _tempus_ groggily. "– seven-thirty in the morning?" Harry pulled on a sweater and pushed himself off the bed. The alarms had begun squealing now and his head was pounding. "It'd better be Kingsley or I'm hexing them into next week," Ron grumbled. Harry hummed in approval.

They tumbled down the stairs reluctantly and Harry threw up his wand to silence the wards. Head much clearer, he closed his fingers on the doorknob and braced himself for an intruder. Thousands of owls had been flooding their home since the end of the war, bearing presents, howlers, letters, photographs and most recently, marriage proposals. Ron and Hermione nodded and Harry turned the knob slowly.

The trio threw open the door, suddenly very wide awake with the gust of cold air flooding the house. Harry could have laughed at the unlikeliness of the situation and he swore he'd _heard_ Hermione raise her eyebrow. Ron seemed to pale a little and the three of them stood for a second, frozen in shock. It wasn't every day you find a very wandless Draco Malfoy duelling a group of Death Eaters.

"Potter, I realise this may be a bit much to process," Draco managed to yell out, spitting blood into the snow and ducking another spell. "But a little _help_, please?" Harry opened and closed his mouth again, unsure of how to respond, but Hermione had already leapt off the stairs with Ron in tow, hurling a _stupefy_ at the distracted masked figures. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he moved to stand behind Malfoy, firing off spells and looking around in alarm as Malfoy jumped out of the way, throwing up a shield charm at the last second.

Harry threw a glare and he shrugged, moving to crouch behind Harry. Ron and Hermione made quick work of the others, disarming them and tying them up with a simple _incarcerous_ as members of the group disapparated. With the adrenaline coursing through him, Harry rounded on Malfoy, grabbing him roughly by the shoulder and pushing him against the gate, leaving blood trails on the pillar.

Malfoy watched him with wide eyes, staring down at the tip of Harry's wand. His pale face stained with red was now drained of colour as he tried to get the words out. Harry rolled his eyes. "You have about two minutes to explain yourself before I–" he trailed off as Malfoy promptly fainted, slumping down and leaving a dark trail of red behind him.

It was all Harry could do to stare disbelievingly, Malfoy's platinum blond hair stained with dirt and more blood as it hung. _What __brought__ him __here?_ He raked his eyes over Draco's attire, finally noticing that all his aristocratic airs were gone, watching him dressed in muggle clothing. Harry sighed as he picked up Malfoy's wand from the middle of the street and turned back to him, curious– Malfoy manor was miles away.

Ron peeked over Harry's shoulder at him. "Suits him, doesn't it? The ferret in distress thing?" He turned and grinned at Harry, but he was watching Malfoy with an unreadable expression. He nudged him. "Let's get him inside, mate. We'll kick his arse later."

**Wednesday, 23rd December 1998  
>6.49pm<strong>

Draco was sure there was no God if he was waking up to _the_ Weasel. He put his arm over his eyes and willed him to _go__ away_, muttering curses to himself as he heard him approach and kneel next to the bed. Weasley seemed to stay there for a while until Draco began to be able to smell pizza on his breath. _Disgusting_.

He moved his arm and cracked an eye open, jumping when he saw the blue gaze much, much nearer than he expected. Weasley has the audacity to chuckle and Draco resisted the urge to hex him against the wall on the other side of the room. When he continued to be stared at, he opened both eyes and turned to face the ginger. He almost shuddered.

Weasley began to run several spells over him and Draco was sure he was about to die of a very painful curse. He felt the wash of healing spells but watched him click his tongue disapprovingly as they left an ugly glow on him, slowly annoying him. Weasley was a terrible healer. _You__'__re __here __for __Potter, _he tried to remind himself, _You__'__re __here __for_ Potter. _In, __Out__–_ he let out a gasp of pain as a wand poked him firmly at a bruise. As Weasley began to laugh to himself again, Draco coughed and looked up at him, looking as offended as he could.

"While I realise I'm attractive, I'm going to introduce you to something," Draco gathered all his courage and drawls. He wants Weasley out. "It's called _personal__ space_." He rolled over and curled himself up in a ball, but he refused to budge.

"Honestly, are you deaf? Some of us were raised with enough space to breathe!" Draco was pushing hard now, willing him to get out of his sight. Weasley's posture stiffened and he stood, but didn't move. Draco tried again.

"Oh for goodness' sake, are you quite done?" He crossed his arms and glared defiantly from the bed. "You wanker!" Weasley growled out, snapping his gaze down. "Should've left you in the snow, ungrateful sod." He stormed out, the door slamming and Draco let out a sigh in relief.

He moved to face the ceiling again, searching his mind and trying to remember. Reaching down, his eyes flew open as he realised _it _was missing. He scrambled out of bed, wincing as he rested his weight on his left arm and pushed harder, searching for clues to how, who, where and more importantly, why the fuck couldn't he remember a thing?

The manor. He'd been at the manor, in father's study... why would he be in father's study? There was a gap then, before the snow outside. He tried to remember past the goddamn obliviation, prodding the barrier and hoping it would break. He caught sight of his reflection then, skin sallow and hair flat and lifeless. _Good __Merlin, _he thought. _I__ look __like __shite. _Picking up his wand, he held it to his hair, facing the mirror across the room. Honestly, had Potter no consideration to fix his appearance before lying him down?

He held his wand up to an unsightly gash next to his mouth. "_Episkey_," he intoned clearly. Unsurprisingly, it stayed open and he moved his hand up to run his fingers along the scab. Setting his wand aside resignedly, he decided to go downstairs. _Potter,_ he repeats. _You__'__re__ here __for__ Potter._

**Wednesday, 23rd December 1998  
>6.53pm<strong>

"It sounds like nobody's killed each other yet," Hermione reassured Harry as he paced in front of the fireplace. After a heated argument about what to do with their 'guest', they had sent Ron up to check on Malfoy almost half an hour ago and the silence meant either Ron was on uncharacteristically good behaviour or Malfoy was dead.

"Hermione, I –"

"Tell me again why we kept Malfoy around?" Ron's heavy footsteps on the staircase announced his arrival and Harry exhaled in relief. He watched carefully as he came into the living room, sinking into one of the couches and rubbing his temples.

"Is he alright, then?" Harry piped up. He put his hands up as Ron glared at him, holding out his wand. Hermione passed him a butterbeer and he downed half the bottle, continuing to throw Harry dirty looks as he did. "This is all your fault," Ron whined at him, nursing his bottle slowly.

Harry continued to watch him in silence. "He's fine," He finally admitted after a few swigs. Harry nodded. "Still snarky, still Malfoy. Lousy git's got some kind of fracture in his arm, but I can't fix it." Hermione moved into the kitchen again, leaving them to sit in comfortable silence. Ron finished his bottle and slammed it on the counter, obviously trying to erase Malfoy's existence from his mind.

"I'm gonna talk to him," Harry began carefully. "See what I can find out."

"Alri–"

"That won't be necessary, Potter," came a voice. Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe, watching him with wary grey eyes. Harry looked him over, slightly uncomfortable to see the way his clothes fit on the blond. Honestly, Hermione should have given him Ron's– the bloke was slightly taller than Harry and he wondered how anyone would look so intimidating in pyjamas that didn't quite reach their ankles.

He was determined to keep control of the situation, though. It was almost Christmas, for god's sake, he wanted to spend it in peace. "Malfoy, you show up on our doorstep–"

"I don't remember a thing." Harry stilled and raised an eyebrow at him. Malfoy arched one in return, daring him to disbelieve it. He started to cross the room towards Harry and he forced himself to stand his ground as Malfoy approached him.

"You don't remember," Harry repeated flatly as Malfoy paused in front of him, arms crossed, nodding slowly. "Yes, Potter, I've said," he replied condescendingly, rolling his eyes. Harry searched Malfoy's eyes and saw nothing but challenge. He leaned against the wall again and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes.

"Malfoy, if you think we're going to believe you," Ron mumbled from the couch, getting up to clap him on the shoulder. Malfoy flinched away. "You've got to be bloody joking, mate." Ron rested on the wall next to Harry and matched Malfoy's gaze.

"Draco, what about this?" Hermione had entered the room, holding out a ring hanging on a chain. She was holding it at an arm's length. Malfoy moved to peer at it and his eyes lit up as he recognised it. He snatched it away from her and went back to Harry as Hermione made a noise of protest, swiping at the ring.

"I came to show you this," he explained, holding it out of reach as Ron tried to grab it. "I wouldn't touch it if I were you, though." He sneered at Ron, still holding it in front of Harry. "It's rather unpleasant, you see, and I was hoping you could help me."

"_Help_ you?" The words slipped out before Harry could stop them. Draco Malfoy was in twelve Grimmauld Place, asking for their help and acting like nothing was wrong with that.

Malfoy tried remain oblivious to three gobsmacked faces and continued on, shifting uneasily under their incredulous looks. "The last thing I remember is the manor and then I'm out in the snow with _this_ bloody thing and my father is dead." He looked at it carefully, holding it up to the light. He shifted again and looked at Harry, his eyes softer and begging him to believe him.

"He's barking, that's what," Ron leaned over and stage-whispered to Hermione. Malfoy sighed and held his hands in the air.

"Please, Potter," he was pleading now and Harry was sure he was about to wake up in bed from this very strange dream. "I need your help."

Harry remained on his guard. Malfoy has been missing since before the start of term– they'd heard the other Slytherins in heated discussions over his whereabouts, noticing when the teachers stopped calling his name in classes. And here his arch-rival was, dressed in Harry's pyjamas, asking for his help. He groaned in defeat.

"Mate, you cannot be thinking of helping him," Ron called. He rolled his eyes at Harry, knowing that look. Hermione looked terribly uncomfortable, lips pressed tightly together as she regarded him with Malfoy. He turned to see grey eyes widen in comprehension and a relieved smile start to form on his lips.

"What if it's a you-know-what?" Harry asked them. Hermione's mouth formed a small 'o' and Ron coloured slightly, suddenly very aware of the ring hanging on the chain.

There was a tense silence as they watched the ring swinging gently as Malfoy held it above their heads. They looked carefully at each other, doubtful and morbidly curious. Ron finally broke the silence.

"All right, all right! But I'm going to have my bloody Christmas first!"

**Friday, 25th December 1998  
>9.12am<strong>

"Malfoy," he heard someone calling him. He buried himself further in the pillows and refused to listen, bent on sleeping some more. Weasley had kept them all up listening to his woefully drunken rendition of _Baby, __It__'__s__ Cold __Outside_. Granger had blushed redder than Weasley's hair and tried desperately to shut him up, but he'd given her a long wet kiss and continued louder than before.

Weasley was insufferably daft most of the time, but Granger made half decent company when she wasn't with him. She consciously asked him about the ring and he'd found himself engaged knee-deep in conversation regarding curses on jewellery and the history of the piece of silver that had found its way into his pocket. Eventually, she'd also healed his arm properly, for which he was grateful.

Draco was both amused and thankful for the formal politeness between them in their exchanges. They were less prying than Pansy and less crass than Theodore. As long as he held his tongue, Weasley and Granger were absolutely pleasant to him. And then there was Potter, who had been nothing but friendly since he'd arrived, treating him as if he'd taken Draco's hand back in their first year. It was unnerving to see a blatant ignorance of the last seven years, yet oddly welcome.

Potter had been rather quiet, really, watching Draco for most of the evening. They'd managed to play chess and laugh at each others' jokes, striking an awkward truce between them. As promised, Hermione had been looking into her books, but they'd dropped everything when Kreacher (he'd wondered where the Black family elf had gone, really) presented the dinner spread with a decent supply of firewhiskey.

Whoever it was had now resorted to poking him. "Malfoy, wake up," the voice was deep and rather nice, really. Draco was more than content to sleep if he kept it up like that, after all, Potter–

His eyes snapped open and he leapt backward on the bed as he came face to face with very startled green eyes, letting out a small scream. "Merlin's pants, Potter!" he clutched at his chest. "Do you all have no sense of manners?" He watched Potter sit there grinning widely, still dressed in his pyjamas. Draco pulled himself together and watched him curiously, slowly pulling the blankets back up to his waist.

"You don't have to scream like a girl, Malfoy," Potter still had his stupid smile on. "It was not a scream," Draco retorted swiftly, sniffing in his best pompous voice. "It was a perfectly manly gasp of surprise."

Potter laughed at that and Draco found himself liking the sound of that, lips curving into a smile. He moved to get himself out of bed and Potter stopped him, holding out a long box wrapped in red paper, tied neatly with a golden bow. His eyes widened.

"This– but– um, Potter–" A truce, yes. But a present?

"Take it. S'yours anyway." Potter pressed the box into his hands and turned to walk away. Draco quickly tore open the wrapper and bit his lip to keep his surprise in when he saw his wand lying comfortably in a box. He lifted it into his hands and felt nothing, but he smiled at Potter anyway.

**Friday, 25th December 1998  
>9.17am<strong>

Malfoy was smiling and Harry exhaled in relief. He paused in the doorway and returned his smile easily, about to join Ron and Hermione downstairs when Malfoy stopped him.

"Thank you, Harry," he breathed. Harry raised an eyebrow, not sure if he was more surprised by the address or the look in Malfoy's eyes as he regarded his wand. He looked hesitant to try it out, cradling it in both hands and smiling at him uneasily. Harry returned it again, reassuringly.

"No worries, _Draco_," he chuckled a little. It was Christmas, he was standing in the same room as Draco Malfoy and exchanging pleasantries. The world was about to end, he just knew it. Malfoy wasn't so bad when he wasn't throwing hexes, keeping up intelligent conversation and genuinely interested in whatever Harry had to say, as if he'd really changed everything after the war.

His expression hardened. Everything had changed after the war.

**Friday, 25th December 1998  
>10.23am<strong>

He watched them gather their things before standing around the fireplace. Draco twirled his wand between his fingers as Weasley adjusted Granger's coat. Potter was gathering gifts into a bag from under the tree, counting them off and nodding to himself.

"You sure you don't want to come, Malfoy?" Granger asked. He shook his head, rather violently at that– they'd offered to take him to the Burrow with them, but Draco would rather keep his hide intact, thanks. He'd had enough run-ins with the Weaselette to last him several lifetimes and he hadn't enough of a death with to put himself in the same room as the proprietors of the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes.

"George won't lay a hand on you," Potter– or was it Harry, now?– was smirking, as if he'd read Draco's mind. He shivered at the thought of it.

"I'll stay here, thank you, with my hundred-percent-blond population," he stuck his tongue out, feeling like a five year old. But Harry returned the gesture, Granger huffing in disapproval. He threw his best smile at her and she rolled her eyes.

"Gentlemen," she admonished, "we're all adults now, aren't we?" She glanced between them, pushing her bushy hair out of her eyes before she laughed. She turned to Draco.

"Before I forget, you should safe-keep this," she said, pulling the chain out of her pocket. As her other hand moved to pull the chain out, Draco leapt across the room to try and stop her, but it was too late– her fingers had already brushed across the gleaming surface.

There was a resounding crash of glass in the kitchen. Draco stared at her in horror.

As a familiar face slowly emerged from the kitchen, his mind shut down. He was vaguely aware of a shield charm being thrown up and lights flying between them, then the telltale _crack_ of disapparition filling the hall. Granger and Weasley were gone, Harry had shoved Draco behind him and was fighting for their lives, but all he could do was to look into his riveting gaze as he fired spells into Harry's shield.

His mouth was moving without a sound as he stared emptily into the attacker's face, not wanting to believe it. He was supposed to be in Azkaban–

"Draco," Harry muttered into his ear, trying to maintain their shield charm. "I want you to take your wand and go." He was suddenly holding onto a long stick of wood, that didn't do anything because–

"Go!" His voice was slightly hoarse from the shouting of spells flooding the house. Draco looked at him helplessly and shook his head, watching Harry's eyes widen as he turned to see him still standing there, like an idiot, in the middle of a battlefield.

Harry dropped his shield charm, grabbed Draco and they disapparated. He felt the stinging of a slicing hex open his cheek, but he closed his eyes and started to breathe again.

**Friday, 25th December 1998  
>10.41am<strong>

Harry slapped Draco awake and he moaned in pain.

"When the fuck were you going to tell me you had a trace on your lovely silver toy?" Draco opened his eyes slowly and Harry's burning green gaze met his. He registered Potter straddling him–

Wait, what?

"Malfoy," he ground out dangerously. His wand was quite dangerously near to Draco's throat.

"I don't have any magic," he got out as quickly as he could, trying to get out from under Potter. "They found me when I first had the ring and they cast some kind of curse. They took it from me, I think," Draco continued, trying to babble as much of it as possible. "And Severus told me I could come to the Order if I needed you and– oh _God _don't point it at me like that."

"It's the handle end of a wand, Malfoy, I hardly think it's going to hurt you." Harry's expression was pained but Draco reached out to take it gingerly.

"Show me." It was simple. Harry _trusted_ him.

"_Lumos,_" Draco intoned. The wand remained as it was, lifeless in his fingers.

Harry put his head in his hands.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Chapter Two! Thank you again to Sofia for the betaing :)

Just so you're warned from here on out, I tend to write on Apple's pages app, so sometimes my italics bunch together and the punctuation messes up a little. I'm sorry!

* * *

><p><strong>Friday, 25th December 1998<br>10.40am**

Harry stumbled under Malfoy's weight as they landed, looking around frantically as he surveyed their surroundings. He held his wand at the ready, vaguely aware of Malfoy's soft breathing against his neck as he slumped against Harry. He threw his limp form down into the snow, inspecting his skin for wounds and wincing a little as his own blood trickled into his eye.

It suddenly hit him again that Malfoy had lead the Death Eaters to Grimmauld Place and anger flooded him again as he crawled over him. He grazed over the cut on his cheek, a sense of satisfaction filling him. The bastard deserved it– he had broken the Fidelius charm and now Harry'd lost Sirius' house–

Then, guilt flooded him. He remembered the photograph of the Marauders in his kitchen, the mirror that had been in his bedroom, his firebolt, the old permission letter for Hogwarts... He slapped Malfoy until he moaned softly, signalling he was indeed awake and alive.

His resolve faltered slightly. It was suspicious, yes, that the Death Eaters had turned their wands on Malfoy, but he wouldn't put it past an elaborate act to lure them. After all, he had spent all of sixth year sneaking around, mending the Vanishing Cabinet, helping Snape to kill Dumbledore...

"When the fuck were you going to tell me you had a trace on your lovely silver toy?" He demanded as Malfoy opened his eyes slowly, leaning forward to press him into the snow. Harry testified at the Malfoys' trial in June and he was about to start regretting it as Malfoy came to his senses. The blond's eyes refocused slowly and his head snapped up a little in surprise, watching Harry move his wand to point at his throat.

"Malfoy," Harry growled at him now. Malfoy had suddenly turned himself into a goldfish, mouth opening and closing and not making a sound. Harry pushed the tip to dig into his skin.

"I don't have any magic–" Malfoy started immediately and squirming a little. He continued to babble, but Harry didn't hear any of it. _No __magic?_ The gears in his mind began to turn as Malfoy continued, but Harry only caught words like 'curse', 'Severus'. He took a deep breath. One way to find out if he was telling the truth and Harry was prepared to run for his life if he was wrong for giving him _another_ chance. He held out his wand for Malfoy to take.

"– oh _God _don't point it at me like that." His grey eyes got impossibly wider as he stared at the holly stick. Harry bit his lip to suppress a groan and his brow furrowed.

"It's the handle end of a wand, Malfoy, I hardly think it's going to hurt you," Harry bit out, shoving it at him as he picked it up slowly, barely clasping it in his fingers.

He watched Malfoy dally and twirl the wand in his fingers, looking at him as he did so. He was chewing on his lip too and Harry lost his patience. They had to find Ron and Hermione.

"Show me." He tried to be as gentle as he could. Malfoy could either help or Harry could leave him here. Without magic, they'd be safe as long as they were at a distance, right?

"_Lumos,_" Draco was clear, but his hand was shaking. The wand did not light.

Harry put his face in his hands. He wasn't too sure if he wanted to laugh at Malfoy for the irony– a pureblood supremacist incapable of producing magic– or if he'd cry. They were in the middle of muggle London, as far as Harry knew, without food and with a single wand between them.

He held out his hand and Malfoy placed his wand in it eagerly, obviously trying to get away from it. Harry raised an eyebrow at him but Malfoy shook his head, watching Harry warily as he pulled his knees up to his chest and began to rock himself slowly.

Malfoy was pale but flushed in the cold, staring off into the distance and looking terribly lost. Harry pulled himself together, holding his wand aloft. "_Expecto__ Patronum,__"_ he called. The silver stag burst out of his wand and galloped around them, slowing its pace to face him. He reached out a hand to pet it and it nuzzled him, warming him briefly.

"Hermione, are you safe? We're–" He paused for a moment. If they were captured (Harry shuddered at the thought) their captors would hear the message just as clearly. He looked over at Malfoy again, who was now running his hand gently along the side of his Patronus. "Return with the Otter if you are." He prayed it was vague enough, sending it off. He sighed heavily and moved to lie on the snow with Malfoy.

Now, they would wait.

**Friday, 25th December 1998  
>7.14pm<strong>

Granger was silent.

Harry had managed to apparate them into Grimmauld Place and out, just enough time to grab his wand off the floor. He then moved them to Diagon Alley, where Draco had been sure he would be shot in the middle of the street with a muggle gun. Unfortunately, he'd said that aloud and Harry had shot him a withering look, accusing him of watching too many of Granger's movies.

He'd concluded perhaps Potter– _Harry_ turned sometime during the day and announced it was too weird– did have a brain after all. They'd visited Gringotts briefly, drawing out some muggle money (Draco thought the muggles were alarmingly stupid, really, for the notes felt nothing like pounds) before disapparating into muggle London again.

They'd passed through the streets, wandering aimlessly. Draco openly stared at the muggle girls until Potter pulled him away. He tried to blink the image of stiletto heels and miniskirts out his mind, shivering at the thought of it. Potter had laughed at him, shrugging as he complained about them all the way as they walked toward the London Eye.

He was sure he'd frozen their hot chocolates over when Potter told him he'd have to change out of his robes into muggle clothing.

Draco looked out over the water, watching the chain dangling from his neck over the railing. The ring was glinting in the light and he was tempted to throw it out into the waves. He pulled it up and studied it for the millionth time, trying to make sense of the markings. This was the key to his father's death– and that was the only thing he was sure of.

Harry had found him a copy of _the__ Daily__ Prophet_, reluctantly handing over the article confirming the Azkaban suicide. Staring into the empty eyes of Lucius' face, Draco found himself unable to move, completely frozen by the image. As if he was there, about to hold his arms out to him again, holding him and telling him that it would be alright. _Muggle__ cyanide_, the text proclaimed.

He'd stared at it until Potter put a hand on his back, jerking him out his reverie. He'd pushed the paper away immediately– it wouldn't do to dream. His father hadn't touched him since he was ten. He let Potter grip his shoulder as they sat in silence, waiting for Granger to return her patronus.

Potter shoved him out of the way, pushing him along and holding a finger to his lips. Draco pulled away but followed him in silence, watching over his shoulder. He picked at his shoulder– honestly, did Potter have to push so hard?

"Don't look," Potter hissed at him. He briefly caught a glimpse of robes in the crowd behind them and inhaled sharply. _Oh._Potter grabbed his arm, pulled him around the corner and they disapparated.

**Friday, 25th December 1998  
>7.43pm<strong>

Harry grimaced as he looked up into the façade of number four, Privet Drive. He released his grip on Malfoy's arm and trudged up the driveway, pausing to gaze at the shrubbery covered in snow. He ran his fingers along the cool surface of Uncle Vernon's car, snorting when he found the dent from twelve years ago– he'd slammed Harry down into the metal, his glasses creating a pretty mark in the freshly waxed surface.

He moved to the backyard and froze as he spotted Aunt Petunia crouched down, her figure obscuring the patch she was working on. He took small steps trying to reorientate himself, peering over her shoulder at the–

"Potter! This house is _tiny_!" His heart stopped as she turned around slowly, eyes flashing dangerously. Harry began to back away slowly, his pulse racing back to full speed as she straightened up. Malfoy took the opportunity to strut over the snow to Harry's side and shove a flower in his hand, oblivious.

"They grow potions ingredients in mug–"

"Potions?" Petunia drawled. "Subtle as a knee to the groin." She was smirking at Harry, woefully reminiscent of Malfoy himself. _That_ particular problem was now eyeing her carefully.

"Is she a witch?"

"Who _wouldn__'__t_ want to be a freak like _your__ kind_," Petunia spat, dripping sarcasm. Malfoy was now staring open jawed at her. She had taken a step forward and Harry's body began to prickle with the anticipation of the dank, dark cupboard.

"You must be a mudb–"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry gritted his teeth and forced a smile, jerking his head over at Aunt Petunia, whose eyebrows had disappeared into her hair. Malfoy looked her over, offered her his best smile a second too late and pulled Harry away. He thrashed as best as he could.

"Malfoy!"

"_Harry_, you have to obliviate her!" He stilled and looked up into Malfoy's eyes, groaning.

"I can't!"

"You have to! God, no respect for–"

"They're my _relatives_," Harry tried. Malfoy silenced as his mouth dropped open. Aunt Petunia's head poked out from behind the house at that moment.

"You're related to _that_?"

**Friday, 25th December 1998  
>7.50pm<strong>

"A little louder, Malfoy, I think Uranus might've missed what you said," Harry dropped to sit in the snow as Aunt Petunia wordlessly disappeared into the house, probably to get Uncle Vernon.

Brilliant. _Now_ they were fucked.

Malfoy huffed and crossed his arms. Harry stared up him exasperatedly, feeling his life leave him as the familiar form of Uncle Vernon appeared in the doorway. "He's probably wondering why you're here," he supplied unhelpfully, gulping as the beady eyes came to rest on him.

"BOY!" Vernon roared from the porch. "COME HERE AT ONCE!" Harry didn't think about it much as he scrambled to his feet and tripped to cross the lawn and stand before his uncle. As he realised what he'd done, he looked over at Draco, who had now raised a careful eyebrow and walked over to join him.

Harry hesitated as Vernon watched expectantly. "This is Draco Malfoy. He's– um, my– friend, from school," he phrased it as carefully as he could, resisting the urge to grab the blond and disappear immediately. Malfoy smirked at him, mouthing _friend?_ Harry shoved him gently as his uncle regarded them.

Vernon continued to look for a few minutes and Harry was soon shifting under his gaze. He hadn't lied– they were sort-of friends by now. 'Oh and sorry to say, we're on the run from some evil wizards so we're just hiding out at your house.'

Finally, he spoke, his face turning a lovely purple. "_Friends_, are you?" he sneered. Against his better judgement Harry nodded and Vernon laughed would be better to let Vernon be, since they would be able to disapparate from the area as soon as he let them go. "You have a lot of nerve, bringing _your_ kind here." Malfoy snorted indignantly, opening his mouth to retort when–

"Dad?" Dudley appeared behind his father, looking much slimmer than when Harry saw him last. He smiled uneasily at him, ignoring Malfoy tugging at his arm and Vernon's silent fury. "Is that _Harry_?"

His cousin strode up to the door and gave a huge smile in return. "How's your hocus-pocus war, Harry?" He remained oblivious to Vernon's bubbling mood.

"Over," Malfoy responded, sounding thoroughly shocked. His eyes darted between Dudley and Harry, as if the answer would write itself on either of their foreheads.

"And you survived, eh?" Dudley turned away now, walking towards their kitchen. Harry shuddered as another memory passed through him.

"It's good to see you, Big D," Harry called carefully over Vernon's shoulder. "Now, _Draco_–" he gave a pointed look at Malfoy, who stared back incredulously. "–we've really got to go, so– um, we'll see you." Harry dragged him away from his relatives, who were stunned momentarily. As they stepped onto the street, he gave a tiny wave and took off running.

**Friday, 25th December 1998  
>8.01pm<strong>

Magnolia Crescent. Merlin, these muggles were uncreative.

Potter was bent over, breathing hard and Draco was sprawled out on the snow-covered ground, glaring at him. "What– the– hell– was– that–" he panted out, throwing his head back into the cold. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of the horse-faced woman and the whale of a man.

He heard Potter plop down on the snow next to him, his breath steadying. He rolled onto his side to watch him, feeling Potter's mood steadily deteriorating. "Potter," he called. He continued to stare and ignore Draco, eyes fixated on a bare tree ahead.

"Oi, Potter," he reached a hand out to him and pushed him over. He flailed as he fell, his emerald gaze darting around and finally resting on Draco. He pulled his knees in and resolutely returned to the tree. Draco furrowed his brow and reached to prod him again, only for him to wrap his arms a little tighter.

Of course, most of Hogwarts knew that Harry Potter was raised by muggles. There had been some whispers about a 'Cupboard under the Stairs' but Draco had dismissed it because really, anyone who knew the Chosen One had to have been falling over to please him. Potter was too damn cocky to be subdued by _muggles_.

But he was so _curious_.

"Tell me about them." The words were out before he really thought about it. He saw Potter finally shift to look at him. Draco held his breath.

**Friday, 25th December 1998  
>8.19pm<strong>

Harry was sure he'd misheard, but when he turned to look, Malfoy was watching him in anticipation. He thought about it, gazing resolutely back– he hadn't even told Ron and Hermione, but they'd never _asked_.

Malfoy was a git, but he hadn't shown a genuine interest in Harry at all until now, really. It was unnerving to suddenly be under scrutiny and he started to berate himself for bringing the biggest pureblood bigot he knew to his relatives' house. He supposed he owed Malfoy some kind of explanation, at least.

He ran the bits of memory through his mind and chuckled bitterly, thinking of the haircuts, lock-ups in the cupboard, the vanishing glass, the stays at Mrs Figg's... Malfoy's gaze was steady and Harry breathed deep. No time like alone in a park with a fugitive.

"That was my mum's sister," he admitted.

"Lily Potter's sister?" Malfoy's shock was a small compliment and Harry smiled ruefully at him.

"Yes, and–" he was cut off as a silver otter finally made its appearance. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed, but Malfoy's attention shifted immediately.

"Harry, we're at the Burrow. Bring Malfoy with you," Hermione's voice rang clear across the park. The silver mist faded and Harry sighed, standing.

"The _Burrow_?" Malfoy's voice was indignant. "We're going to the _Weasleys__'_?" Harry grinned widely at him, nodding. His eyes rolled back into his head and he went back to lying in the snow, arm over his face.

"Malfoy..."

"Potter..." he returned. Harry groaned at him.

"Come on, Malfoy," he grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet. Malfoy continued to grumble as he dusted snow off his coat and shot nasty looks.

**Friday, 25th December 1998  
>8.26pm<strong>

He didn't like this _at __all_, brushing snow off his clothes and mentally preparing himself for the Weasleys' home.

Draco needed them. He knew that, he was grateful they were helping but merlin, he didn't expect to be going to see Arthur and Molly Weasley so soon after the war. He shuddered a little in trepidation, pulling his coat in a little tighter and trying to calm his stomach. They were going to Weasley and Granger, who would be there to help him. _In, __Out, __In,__ Out._

Potter hadn't let go of his hand. Draco supposed this was some kind of consolation, because Potter was rather warm and comforting when he didn't have his mouth open. He pulled on the chain and checked for the ring and nodded at him.

Then, they were off. Potter never let go.

**Friday, 25th December 1998  
>8.32pm<strong>

"_Harry!_" They heard Ginny Weasley calling them from the house, running to meet them as they trudged up to the precariously stacked building.

Draco waved at her and she paused for a second in front of them, surveying him carefully before she threw herself into Potter's arms, kissing him on the cheek. Draco snatched his hand away and continued on towards the house. Granger was standing there with a relieved expression on her face, offering him a small smile as he stood mock-saluting her.

Ginny ran past him into the house again, announcing their arrival and soon more of them peeked through the kitchen doorway and came to greet Potter warmly, clapping him on the back and crushing him in hugs. They looked at him warily and he backed himself on the farthest wall, grateful when Granger and Weasel came to stand with him away from the reunion. He watched Potter's smile grow as Molly came out to embrace him, wrapping his arms gently around her.

He coughed. Potter's head snapped over and surprisingly enough, he smiled at Draco too. He stared dumbly back while Weasley and Granger shared a look, but he really didn't want to know what that was about. He closed his eyes and blocked his thoughts out with the welcome buzz of chatter in the Burrow.

**Friday, 25th December 1998  
>11.23pm<strong>

Hermione asked him to repeat himself. _Again._

"Malfoy's lost his magic," Harry pressed, glancing at Draco for approval. At his nod, he continued. "Some kind of curse and we think it has something to do with that... _thing_." He gestured vaguely to the ring sitting on the table between them.

Somewhere along the night, Malfoy had demanded he be addressed as Draco and announced he didn't care how weird it was, he was going to call him Harry. He'd blushed a little as Charlie snickered, hiding his laugh behind his firewhiskey. Before he'd been able to continue, Harry had agreed and _Draco_ had, quite thankfully, shut up.

She hummed and tapped her chin as she thought. "Never heard of anything like that," she admitted after a pause. (She glared as Ron and Harry coordinated a gasp of surprise.) She was studying him now, casting some diagnostic spells as Ron and Draco animatedly fought over the Chudley Cannons' chances of winning in the Quidditch season.

Harry and Hermione stared at the ring. She picked it up by the chain, trying to read the engraving. He joined her, eyes raking over the words. _Eclipse __the__ brightest __light._

_That__ was__ helpful,_Harry thought. The words were vague; they could mean anything. If they had anything to do with Malfoy's memory or his magic, or the trace on it... they could easily be found. Harry thought back to the first attack on Grimmauld Place. Malfoy'd snatched the ring out of the air and had the ring clasped in his hand, as the Death Eaters disapparated, but it had reacted the moment Hermione touched it.

"I can't read it," Hermione said, troubled. His eyes widened in surprise.

"You can't? But it's in english, right here. _Eclipse __the__ brightest__ light._" He pointed it out to her. Her mouth opened and she was watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"What?" He was exasperated now.

"I _can__'__t_ read it."

"It's perfectly clear–"

"Parseltongue." Draco's voice joined the conversation abruptly. "I know, Granger."

"There's a written language for _Parseltongue_?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Every language has a written form, I suppose," Hermione replied slowly. She glanced at Draco and he nodded affirmatively.

"But I haven't been able to speak it since Voldemort died." He protested weakly, falling into Ron's bed. He rubbed his eyes and Ron moved to rub his back. Harry moaned softly as his scar began to throb slightly.

Draco was clutching his arm, too and Hermione as on her feet, looking around wildly. She pulled back his sleeve and saw the Dark Mark burning dark and fresh on his skin. Harry put a hand out to pull Draco down, steadying him as he bit so hard on his lip it started to bleed.

"Talk," Harry commanded.

"Fuc– Fucking hurts," he spat out.

Hermione was shaking her head wildly and Harry's mind was whirring. Voldemort had been defeated, they were sure of that. The lieutenants were all dead, the Death Eaters in Azkaban.

Right?

Who the fuck was calling them back together?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I wanted to get this chapter out as soon as possible, so any mistakes you see are my own. Also, I've recently changed the genre to Romance/Drama because the story's changed since the idea was conceived. Leave me a review! :)

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday, 29th December 1998<br>12.03pm**

The tea here was disgusting, Draco had concluded after just over three days of it. He stirred slowly, pushing the teabag around in his cup and stared morosely into it. If Draco were honest, he was used to the absence of his magic by now, but the Weasleys were driving him insane with the need to hex them all. Especially the Wea_sel_.

"I think we should visit Hogwarts," Granger announced suddenly from the doorway.

Weasley choked and sputtered, looking at her disbelievingly. Draco raised an eyebrow, taking in her appearance. She looked awful, really, mild bruises showing up on her arms. The ghastly orange shirt hung loosely on her– _oh.__ The_ Chudley Cannons _shirt._ _Brilliant._ She crossed the kitchen with Ron indifferently, her arms full of books, tossing Harry a notepad as he entered the kitchen behind them and dropping into a chair.

"You're early, Granger," Draco drawled, smirking at her. "_Most_ of us haven't seen you for days." She flushed darkly and Weasley glared at him.

"None of your business, is it?" he snapped, grabbing one of her books and shoving it over the table. "You should take a look if you haven't," he spat, gesturing at the paper sticking out of it. As Granger suppressed a yawn, Weasley put an arm around her and Draco took a very long sip of tea, trying to keep the images out of his head. The Golden Trio– subtle as a knee to the groin.

Harry looked much better than both of them, dressed and wide awake, but the dark shadows under his eyes reminded Draco of the sleepless nights they'd spent staring at the ceiling, waiting for the next attack. Another meeting had been called on Saturday, while they were with the rest of the Weasley family– Weasley (the oldest one– Bill, was it? He couldn't tell anyway) had cast a spell to numb the pain and looked the Mark over carefully. He didn't like being examined like a specimen, but he assured them he'd look into the problem as well.

The one-eared twin had taken it upon himself to booby-trap every area in the house Draco could step into. He'd suffered hidden acid pops, instant darkness powder in the bathroom (where he was threatened to lose his bollocks if Harry was hurt), waking up to ice buckets and finding his slippers hidden in the stairwell. Draco could swear his feet would never recover from the cold.

Speaking of which, Harry, the bastard, had been out _flying_ without so much as a scarf. "Been out on the pitch, have you?" Draco asked, spotting the struggling golden snitch in his hand. His clothes were muddy, but Harry's green eyes brightened and he grinned, nodding. The blond rolled his eyes and picked up the book. Honestly, what could possibly be in _Hogwarts: __A__ History_?

Ah. A page of_ The __Daily__ Prophet _sat wedged in the book, obviously well-read. Harry reached over and pulled it out, unfolding it. His gaze flickered across the page and Draco looked on as he ran a hand through his rumpled hair. Then, his lips thinned and eyes hardened, folding it gingerly in half again. Draco snatched it from him curiously and Harry opened his mouth to protest but at his withering look, fell silent. He put his head in his arms on the table in resignation.

Smirking in triumph, Draco returned to the paper. His eyes widened in surprise as he scanned the heading, then the photograph caught his attention and his heart began to pound dangerously. The Dark Mark covered half the front page, swirling dangerously over a familiar house.

"Who–"

"The Parkinsons," Granger said quietly. She leaned forward towards him, locked her gaze with his and took a deep breath before continuing. "The attack happened two nights ago. There were no survivors." He leaned back slowly and began staring at the ceiling.

Pansy was dead. Oh, Merlin.

**Tuesday, 29th December 1998  
>12.06pm<strong>

Draco had gone terribly silent. Hermione sighed, turning to Harry, who shrugged.

"I've contacted Professor McGonagall," she said. "The Hogwarts Express will be able to take us up to the school." Harry nodded, watching Draco as he breathed slowly. He'd watched the funerals after the war and he remembered being at Remus' funeral, holding onto Teddy's hand. Now, he watched Draco as he dropped his head and started picking at the hem of his sweater, reaching out and putting his hand on his shoulder. "Hey," he called softly.

It was unnerving, sometimes, seeing the way Draco had changed since Harry had last seen him. His hair fell into his eyes and he seemed so empty and desperate, especially without his magic. He moved slowly all the time, proud shoulders hunched slightly when he watched any of the Weasleys and their wands. Harry had taken to using his as little as he could, trying to do things manually to reassure him that they would give their support as much as they could.

Draco finally looked back at him and Harry offered him a weak smile. He ignored it and pushed himself to his feet and moved to the doorway, away from them. Hermione reached out to take Harry's now-empty hand and he held on gratefully, not sure how to deal with him just yet. He paused at the doorway, as if to say something, but turned and walked away without a word.

"The train departs at one," Ron called after him. Harry glared.

**Tuesday, 29th December 1998  
>12.45pm<strong>

They stood near the barrier onto the platform, checking to see if they were watched.

"You go first with Draco," Hermione called over her shoulder. She had her hand in her pocket, fingering her wand anxiously as she scanned the crowd for any signs of a threat. Professor McGonagall had warned them not to take any chances– Kingsley had encountered a group of Death Eaters at King's Cross the week before. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Harry take Draco's hand and lead him to the barrier.

Then, Draco put his hand flat against the wall, while Harry's arm went straight through it. Hermione whipped around, eyes wide. Ron frowned and walked toward the barrier, passing through easily. Her eyes widened in realisation as Draco once again met with a solid wall while her hand passed through it as well. "No magic," she whispered aloud. Draco stared at her.

It made sense, of course. The barrier was protected against muggles and one could only pass through it with a magical trace. She glanced at Draco again, who was now glaring at her as she continued contemplating the situation, searching for the answer. How did muggle-borns' parents cross the barrier onto the platform? Her parents had been flown over–

"Harry, do you have your broom?" He raised his eyebrows, but nodded uneasily. Hermione smiled reassuringly and turned to Draco. "Well, then," she continued. "you'll have to fly over." Draco's eyes got impossibly wide and Harry looked about ready to faint.

She eyed them suspiciously, but shrugged it off and proceeded toward the barrier. "See you on the platform, then," she said.

**Tuesday, 29th December 1998  
>12.51pm<strong>

Thoughts of Crabbe and the fire began to fill his mind.

Harry stared at the space Hermione had been in, visibly ill. Draco was shifting nervously– well, he was perfectly composed other than the shifting eyes, Harry supposed– but took off toward the exit, looking back to see if he was following. Harry quickly snapped out of his daydream to follow. They only had a few minutes to catch the train and he wasn't going to risk another flight trip to Hogwarts.

He barely registered the muggles passing him as he ran behind Draco. He wondered if any of them could tell as two wizards passed them, camouflaged amidst them as they raced through the crowd. Draco turned back and poked his tongue out and Harry laughed, relieved. Draco hadn't spoken since they left the Burrow, withdrawing from them and preparing in a stony silence. As he sped up, Harry moved to match him and they pushed through the crowd together.

As they broke into the streets, Harry caught Draco's arm and pulled him toward the parking lot, casting muggle repellent charms as they weaved through them. They stopped to catch their breath a second before Harry pulled out his broom and enlarged it, holding it carefully and putting aside his memories of the Room of Requirement.

Draco was visibly distressed, looking up into the sky and pulling his scarf in closer. He looked ridiculous in muggle wear, Harry decided, watching him as he stood, alone in the snow. He cleared his throat and Draco's eyes flickered, his back straightening as he gathered himself together. Harry leaned over and grabbed his hand, pulling him onto the broom and taking off abruptly.

Draco gave an undignified yelp and threw his arms around Harry's waist, holding on for dear life. Harry felt the death grip as they rose into the sky, smirking as they crossed over the barrier and the bright red engine came into view. They dived down onto the platform, where Hermione stood with her arms crossed.

"Thought you'd run off!" she yelled.

Harry grinned at her and took them down to rest on the platform. "Wouldn't dream of it," he chuckled, shrinking his broom and pocketing it. He pulled Draco over and he shoved Harry gently, shooting him the best withering look he could muster with his windblown hair. Ron came up behind him, ruffling it, and Draco sighed in exasperation, brushing him off and starting his attempt to flatten the flaxen nest on his head.

With his cheshire grin, Ron leapt on him and attacked with full force.

**Tuesday, 29th December 1998  
>10.49pm<strong>

Draco cursed Granger for assigning him to photographs. The other three were huddled in the Restricted Section, in heated discussion over some dark texts he recognised from a distance. After all, he had spent his childhood in the extensive library buried in the basement of the manor.

He pulled out another folder, searching each picture for a sign of the ring. Granger had bet she'd seen it in the archives before... he glanced over hands in every photo, searching for the cursed piece of jewellery. Draco sighed as Weasley made another loud noise of protest– honestly, was he trying to rouse every portrait in the castle?

Running his fingers through his (now) flattened hair, he made a note to thank Granger later. She pulled him aside and fixed it for him on the train. He'd panicked, seeing her wand between his eyes, but she'd only laughed and cast calmly. She wasn't so bad, Draco mused. He'd had his fair share of meeting muggle-borns over the last few months while running, learning about the world his father had buried with him.

He snickered, thinking of _he_ would have said seeing him with the Light's most famous wizards, striking truces and building friendships. His mother– well, she'd fled the country, last he had seen in a paper, and left him to die. Harry would probably know where she was– for all Draco knew, Narcissa had used her life debt to conceal her location from her only son.

Returning to the photographs, he thumbed through a 1984 _Daily__ Prophet_ issue until he saw it– _Lucius __Malfoy __opens __a__ new__ ward __at__ St. __Mungo__'__s_, the headline of the newspaper read. Draco smiled at it, watching his father slice open the ribbon with his wand. The height of their influence.

He wouldn't be surprised if Dolores Umbridge had designed the ceremony, really. The ribbon turned into butterflies when cut and one landed on Lucius' left–

The ring sat on his left hand. Draco clapped a hand over his mouth and stared at it, not trusting himself to run to Granger yet. Immediately, his mind filled with doubt and he faltered, doubting that it was the same. He ran his fingers across the photograph and his father smirked at him, exuding regality and pride. He began to shake his head, slumping back into the chair and never taking his eyes off the photograph.

Draco couldn't remember it at all. He must have been at the ceremony, about four years old. He tried to think back to the day of the ceremony, where he had been with Narcissa and watching his father raise his wand... No, they had never been at St. Mungo's for a ward opening, had they?

Slightly alarmed, he ripped through more articles until he found another of his father from his second year. Again, the ring was present (and so was he, in the photograph) but he could not remember ever having been in Flourish and Blott's in his second year. Impossible, since he had obtained his texts for that year with no problem. He was panicking now, trying hard to breathe slowly as he searched his memories desperately for a memory of the piece of jewellery.

Nothing. He stood up, knocking over his chair, and ran toward the Restricted Section.

**Tuesday, 29th December 1998  
>11.08pm<strong>

"Granger! Granger!" he called as he approached the gate. Draco grimaced at the feeling in his throat, sore from the silence.

She appeared almost immediately, pressing a finger to her lips. Draco shook his head and thrust the articles at her, ignoring her confused stares and hurrying her to look at the photographs. She thumbed through them quickly as her brow furrowed deep.

Exhaling slowly, she shot him a questioning look.

"I can't remember any of it," he scrambled to tell her. "It's just– I'm in this one, and it's just– _gone_ from my memory. The ring doesn't exist in there." He gestured vaguely to his head and continued flailing as he panicked. Granger put an arm on his and stilled him.

"Your father."

"Yes, but–"

"Malfoy, could you do us all a favour and _keep __it __down_?" Weasley piped up. Granger turned to glower at him, wherever he was.

"Draco," Granger started again. "I think we need to visit your archives." Draco's eyes widened and he nodded slowly, not understanding what her plans were. She sent a pleased smile and looked over her shoulder. "Harry?"

He stepped out from under the invisibility cloak into the light, looking between Granger and Draco like one of them was going to bite him. Draco hissed and watched Harry jump, grinning mischievously as Harry punched him lightly in the arm. Granger sighed at them with a reproachful glare. She paused before speaking, pulling out her wand and sending her patronus to Professor McGonagall, requesting access to the Floo.

"Harry, can you take him into Malfoy manor?" She nodded in Draco's direction. He looked warily at Harry, surveying him as Harry pulled out his wand as well, nodding. "Draco will lead you to the study, I think," Hermione continued. "The ring belongs to Lucius Malfoy. Ron and I will finish up here." Harry straightened at that, meeting Draco's gaze. He narrowed his eyes at the photographs in Granger's hands and Draco couldn't help but shudder at the icy regard Harry had for his father.

They turned to leave together, Weasley chucking the cloak at Harry. He pocketed it and began to move toward the doors of the library.

"Thanks, Granger," Draco suddenly remembered.

"Hermione," she corrects him.

"Hermione," he repeats after a beat, ignoring the strangeness of the name on his tongue.

**Wednesday, 30th December 1998  
>7.06am<strong>

Harry held his wand aloft as Draco rummaged through the files, boxes and charmed cabinets. Occasionally, he would ask Harry to perform spells to unlock secret compartments. He would bite his tongue and perform them without question, grateful for his trust. Draco worked in silence, offering gentle squeezes as reassurances every time he requested counter-curses. Who knew that Potter and Malfoy would turn into friends?

The study was surprisingly filled with photographs of Draco as a child, as well as Narcissa. They were ordinary– in fact, some were muggle photographs, a young blond boy frozen in time with his first wand pointed straight at the camera. In others, he watched him flying on a broom, playing a game of exploding snap with his mother or attacking a treacle tart. Draco bypassed each photo carefully feigning disinterest, although he'd glance back when he thought Harry wasn't looking.

Draco knew Lucius Malfoy kept a personal vault behind his study and they had searched that first, sifting through his gold and other precious items in search of similar jewellery. They had only found one empty slot built for a ring. They tested the slot immediately for the miniature wards guarding each possession, only to find that they had been broken clearly by an unfamiliar magical signature.

"That doesn't help," Draco said. "Only Father's would have been recognised."

When Draco hovered the ring near the slot, it was obvious this had been stolen before it reached him in the snow that night. With this in mind, they moved systematically counter-clockwise around the room, but Draco would leap across the room to search for related items when he found a possible hint. He would bite his lip as he searched journals, wrinkling his nose at some parts and laughing at others. Harry watched him, smiling at the vulnerability. Draco was a good person, and he was glad Lucius hadn't managed to change that.

Harry yawned, finally cast a _tempus _and sighed. By then, they'd been searching for hours– first, the library for photographs, then the study– and the sun would be up soon. Surely they would find–

Draco cried out in pain suddenly and Harry was pulled out of his thoughts. He was hunched over on his knees, forehead resting against the floor and his eyes wide open. "Draco?" he asked urgently, pulling him upright. He was dripping with perspiration and began to thrash violently in Harry's arms. His eyes were empty but terrified while he moved away, curling into a ball and moaning in pain. Harry reached over to shake him. "Draco? Answer me, dammit!"

As he whimpered softly, Harry picked him off the ground and held the other struggling teenager in his arms, waiting for him to still. _What__ was _that_? _His shoulder slowly dampened as he continued holding him in restraint and Harry rubbed his back slowly, calming him. Soon enough, Draco stopped and was breathing heavily, his head resting on Harry's shoulder and the ring hanging between them. As he pulled out of the embrace, Harry's hand felt a touch of cool metal on his hand.

"Fuck!" The alarm wards went off and Death Eaters poured into the study. Harry hurriedly dropped the invisibility cloak over Draco's head, pressing his back against the invisible side so they wouldn't lose each other. Harry began to deflect as many spells as possible, wincing as two simultaneous slicing hexes caught him in his right leg and he dropped onto his knee.

He began to fire off stunners and disarmers, trying to incapacitate them as efficiently as he could while maintaining his concentration, slowly slipping out as his wounds began to throb painfully. He felt Draco grab him and pull him to his feet as one of the masked men approached him.

"_Confringo!_" he yelled on instinct, aiming at the mask. It shattered to pieces and Harry stared into the wild eyes of Rabastan Lestrange. He heard a gasp behind him, feeling Draco stumble a little as he struggled to pull Harry back and support his leg.

Someone fired off a streak of purple fire at his back and Harry threw up a shield charm. Whipping around, Draco whispered in his ear. "Harry, we've got to go. You won't survive this if we stay."

Harry groaned as another hex hit him. Draco grabbed his hand. "Let's go," he urged. Harry swayed dangerously as turned on the spot and they were gone.

When they reappeared at the Burrow, Harry collapsed into Draco's arms.

**Wednesday, 30th December 1998  
>10.00am<strong>

Hermione and Ron apparated into the Burrow to find a very flustered Draco Malfoy tying the ripped bedsheets around Harry's middle. They rushed to his side and Hermione began Healing him properly, thanking Draco for thinking quickly.

She laughed despite the situation when he admitted he'd stolen it from the dramas she watched at Grimmauld Place, pulling him into a hug. He'd awkwardly patted her back. She'd cried, but Weasley had mouthed _leave __her_ from across the room.

Of course, he had been more suspicious, but held out a hand and gruffly announced that he could call him Ron. Draco took extra time to stare at it and wondered aloud how they'd gone from that denied friendship in first year to this, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. Ron chuckled and said, "For Harry." The brunette continued to sleep, his breathing ragged.

**Friday, 1st January 1999  
>5.14pm<strong>

Harry groaned softly, feeling his head pounding.

Immediately, the whispers around him fell silent. It was a shame, really, Harry quite liked the constant noise around his bedside. He needed the reminder he wasn't alone. He needed to know he was safe. Draco's voice came, "Harry?"

Ah, that's right. They had fought again, at Malfoy Manor. The ring traced them back to... Mmm, he could smell chocolate. The battle could wait.

"Harry?" Draco pressed. Harry tried to reply, but all that came out was a muffled moan. "Oh, you're back. That's good," Draco started talking to him at full speed. "Hermione and Ron have been so worried about you, you know? We've all been trying to get you awake..." Hermione and Ron? How did they go from Granger, Weasley and Malfoy to _that_? He pried his eyes open and squinted at the bright light above him.

"...and Weasley is absolute shit at Healing." Draco finished.

"Draco," he croaked out.

"Hmm?"

"Turn off the fucking light," he whined.

Draco laughed. "Of course, princess."

It flickered off and Harry opened his eyes again, processing the surroundings. They were in their room and it was probably about afternoon-time. His internal pains had subsided, thankfully, but he could feel freshly healed wounds on his body and didn't chance moving yet.

Ah yes, there was Draco's attack too. The blond looked fine, for the most part, moving about the room gathering supplies to change bandages and carrying potions of sorts. Hermione and Ron came into the room and sat down on either side of the bed. Draco leaned himself against the opposite wall, watching him with a relieved smile.

"How long have I been out?"

"Day and a half, mate," Ron replied. "How are you?"

"Not too bad," Harry said. He shifted slowly in his bed until he came to sit, resting against the headboard. "I've had worse."

"At least you had Malfoy instead of bloody Lockhart this time, eh?" Ron grinned at him. Harry rolled his eyes and leaned back heavily. He was still sore around his shoulders and wanted to go back to sleep soon, eyelids heavy. "Thanks," he said to Draco. He bowed dramatically, tipping an imaginary hat and they laughed.

As soon as they told Ron and Hermione about their discoveries at Malfoy Manor, he'd go back to sleep. The ring had been stolen, which only narrowed it down to whoever could pass the manor's wards– Draco could help them with it. They would be alright.

"Harry," Hermione began soberly, interrupting his thoughts. "We've, uh, lost the ring."

Harry nearly shot out of bed in alarm. "_What?_"

"We apparated without it," Draco said softly. "I was wearing it, but then it was gone."

The Death Eaters had the ring again. Harry slumped back onto his pillows and threw an arm over his face. They were royally fucked if the Death Eaters were able to solve the riddle before they were. They would have to steal it back, Harry decided, and they would have to do it soon.

"Alright," he replied tersely, moving to look pointedly at Draco again. "Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"Draco," Harry pressed impatiently. He knew perfectly well what he was talking about.

He hesitated for a moment, looking up to the ceiling as he always did when he was nervous. He opened his mouth slowly. "Well, I remembered... I was looking at another photo of the ring, you see, and there were people in the photo– Father, Aunt Bellatrix, Uncle Severus, Dolohov– and I remembered..." he bit his lip.

Harry waited as Draco took a deep breath, his eyes stormy and clouded over. "I think I killed him. Dolohov. But I don't remember why." He heard Hermione inhale sharply and felt Ron tense up, both stilling dangerously. He bit down on his lip and tried to keep himself steady.

Ron took Hermione's hand and pulled her off the bed, leaving the room. Harry, still slightly shaken, gestured for him to sit on the bed, but Draco shook his head slowly and slid down to the floor, straight-backed and wary. He seemed to be waiting for Harry to say something.

He didn't quite understand. Draco hadn't been able to kill Dumbledore in the Astronomy Tower in their sixth year, he hardly thought that he would suddenly be able after the war. He wasn't an arbitrary killer, Harry thought, they would have to force him to remember more. He grimaced at the idea as he watched Draco pull in his knees.

His long fingers reached for the place where the ring would have been and Harry sighed.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **All the major spells used in this chapter are explained at the bottom because I used some that are rarer than the standard jinxes and hexes. Enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>Monday, 4th January 1999<br>8:02pm**

Harry kicked another stack of books on his way to the kitchen and he swore loudly. Hermione glared at him from the couch and he rolled his eyes, picking up another cup of coffee from the counter. Leaning against it, he surveyed the kitchen, littered with books, newspapers, photographs, testimonies, letters, feathers and ink splatters, picking up his current text from under a pizza box, courtesy of Ron.

Flipping through the stained pages and sketches, through the clinical explanations of memory curses and their permanence tendencies, Harry rubbed his temples slowly, trying to ease his growing headache. They had done nothing but read since they lost the ring, searching for the key to Draco's memory. He heard him curse vaguely at one of the stacks in the hallway and smiled.

"We're not getting anywhere," he mused aloud.

"We've learned plenty about the possibilities," Hermione replied swiftly, not looking up.

"All we've learned is that I'm not supposed to remember anything," Draco called from the hallway. "And we've already proved that theory wrong."

Hermione bit her lip before replying. "Have you remembered anything else?" she asked carefully.

Draco shook his head and nursed his own cup of coffee. They had all gone without sleep for about twenty-six hours now at Hermione's insistence. She refused to tell them exactly what they were looking for and Harry was beginning to lose his patience. He skimmed the page and paused briefly on an image of the glass orbs in the Department of Mysteries, looking up into Draco's grey eyes.

Sirius' eyes. He pulled his gaze back down.

Ron had joined them, perching himself on the armrest of the couch and reading over Hermione's shoulder. "'Mione," he whined. "It would be a lot easier if you told us what we were looking for."

Hermione didn't respond. Draco rolled his eyes and drawled, "Granger–"

"Hermione," she said softly.

"_Her-my-oh-knee_," Draco emphasised it slowly and carefully, shutting his book with a flourish. "It's very nice how we're clearing books faster than Goyle puts away cupcakes, but I refuse to go on blindly." He set the book down on the counter and drained his coffee.

Ron glowered across the room, sliding in beside Hermione. She remained silent for a minute before she opened her mouth. Harry and Draco watched her expectantly.

"I think Draco's forgotten how to use his magic," she admitted.

Draco's eyebrows disappeared into his hair. Ron turned to stare at her worriedly. "That isn't possible–"

"Honestly, Ron, anything's possible. Parseltongue rings, V-Voldemort's language?" Her voice rose slightly and she coloured, gripping the book in her lap a little tighter and pulling it to her chest defensively. "I'm just exploring all the possibilities."

Harry looked at her incredulously. "_Forgotten?_" Draco looked thoroughly gobsmacked. "This is ridiculous," he continued on. "Days of research to reverse _forgetting __magic_? Hermione, that's a little much, even for you, don't you think?" He fumbled for his wand off the table as he spoke, crossing the room towards the door. Ron moved and grabbed his arm.

"Where are you going, mate?" Harry looked at him, the bright blue now dull with exhaustion. He shrugged him off, reaching for his invisibility cloak. "I'm going to get it back," he answered vaguely, checking his pockets for the instant darkness powder.

"Harry, we don't know what we're up against!" Hermione cried from across the room, throwing her book aside.

"Yeah, and we won't until we can get a good look at the ring, will we?" he retorted sharply, speaking to her over his shoulder. "I want to read it again, 'Mione, and we're wasting our time waiting for the answer to come to us."

"You don't know what kind of curses they're throwing, Harry, you could be killed," she insisted, rising to her feet. Draco left the room abruptly and Harry sighed.

"Look, we never have. Voldemort down with an _expelliarmus_, remember?" he responded exasperatedly. Every minute they were waiting was dangerous– Harry could feel it. "I'll be fine."

"You need to wait until–"

"If we waited all the time half the Light would be dead, 'Mione!" he snapped. "Mr. Weasley at the Department of Mysteries, maybe?" Ron paled and Hermione flinched away, eyes downcast.

"It's different."

"It's the fucking same! The war isn't over yet, not with Death Eaters attacking the villages, lives are at stake–"

"Harry, you don't have to do this," she pleaded.

He rested his hand on the doorknob and pulled his invisibility cloak onto his shoulders. Ron began digging around in his pockets and Harry raised a questioning eyebrow. Ron looked up at Hermione, her eyes shining. Harry looked away.

"'Mione, do we have any more darkness powder?" Her jaw dropped and Harry's eyes widened. Ron turned to him and grinned. "Won't let you go alone, mate."

"Ronald!"

"He's right, 'Mione," he said sadly. "I'm sorry, but we need it back." Harry reached out to clap him on the shoulder gratefully. Ron pulled on a thick winter cloak and they opened the door slowly.

"I'm coming with you," another voice came out into the cold as they stepped into the cold of January. Harry shivered and Ron turned back to survey Draco, who was standing there bundled up. He moved to hold his hand out to him, but Ron stopped him.

"I don't trust him," Ron ground out. "We are not taking him."

Harry looked between them and nodded reluctantly. Draco trudged over and Harry pulled his scarf around him tighter. "I'll help," he said.

"It's too dangerous," Ron said flatly. Harry winced as Draco snorted.

"I hardly think I'll faint at the sight of it," he countered.

"We can't–" Harry started. The blond turned on him and frowned slightly.

"Yes, I bloody well know I can't defend myself." He scowled at him and folded his arms. "Weasley, if you can't trust me, you might as well say so," he said simply.

"I don't trust you," Ron snarled at him, grabbing Harry's arm.

"I'm sorry–" Harry tried again, but the sickening feeling of apparition silenced him as Ron side-alonged him away. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing– hopefully, he could deal with Draco later.

**Monday, 4th January 1999  
>9:07pm<strong>

"Bloody hell," Ron breathed as they shifted behind the leaves, watching the Death Eaters pace outside Twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry crouched beside him with bated breath, wand drawn and searching them for a sign of identity. Ron dropped down as they turned again, tensing up as they paused to look at the bushes.

Harry pointed to the house. "Is it safe?" he asked uncertainly, moonlight glinting on his glasses. Grimmauld Place was now fully visible, the cracked walls setting a feeling of uneasiness in his stomach. Ron's lips thinned into a line for a moment before he nodded affirmatively. "Right then," Harry said, standing and moving back slowly. "We'll have to go now."

They held their wands pointed at the two hooded figures patrolling along Grimmauld Place. "Together, then?" Ron watched Harry out of the corner of his eye as he nodded once. Red light shot out to strike the two down and they apparated into the house.

**Monday, 4th January 1999  
>9:05pm<strong>

"Don't!" Draco hissed at Hermione as she raised her wand for a Patronus. She slumped down and looked at him desperately, silently begging him for help. He slumped into the couch beside her, his head in his hands as they sat in silence. Then, she began to cry softly and Draco groaned.

"I'm– _hic_– sorry," she sobbed out. It had barely been an hour, for Merlin's sake. They were fine. Draco patted her on the shoulder. "They'll be okay," he tried to reassure her gently. "They'll be back soon." She began to wipe the tears from her eyes and sniffled loudly.

He passed her his handkerchief and bit his lip as she smeared her snot all over it. Ugh.

**Monday, 4th January 1999  
>9:11pm<strong>

Harry tried to settle his stomach as they landed in his room. Ron immediately moved to the door, peering out. Suddenly, he whipped back into the room, pressing himself against the wall and putting a finger to his lips. Harry was immediately on his guard, casting a quick disillusionment charm and moving towards him.

The figure walked past the room swiftly, pausing to check the room. He looked around and Harry stilled while the figure walked dangerously close. He began to sniff the air, sensing them, but moving away to check the other corners. Then, Harry noticed the ring hanging around his neck and held himself from lunging at him. The figure looked vaguely in their direction but turned and left as quickly as a loud noise resounded through the house.

As soon as he continued on, he felt Ron relax and let out a breath of relief. He turned to Harry. "I'm going to call them downstairs. You go after him," he said briskly, gesturing to the retreating figure in the hallway. Harry's eyes widened as he realised what he was saying.

"You're going to get yourself killed out there," he growled as he tried to leave. Ron grabbed him by the shirt, his blue eyes blazing bright and leaned to whisper urgently. "Listen, mate, one of us has to distract the others while the other goes for the ring," he bit out. "You're going to go after it and I'll be damned if you don't come back alive." He shoved Harry toward the door.

"Go, for Merlin's sake!" Harry turned a last look back at him, taking off down the corridor. He saw Ron fire off a spell at the living room, exploding one of their vases, and began to move slowly down the corridor, staying in the shadow. He reached the end just in time to see the tails of his robes disappear around the staircase.

He trailed behind quietly as the figure ascended to Regulus' room, pausing for a second before the door clicked open. Harry was impressed– Hermione had locked the room with as many enchantments as she could as soon as they moved in. Then, he clicked the door open, pushing slowly past the boundaries and surveying the space, left exactly as it had been before Harry had first seen it.

Whoever it was cleared his throat and Harry jumped slightly as he slipped into the room, heart pounding. The dark concealed the Death Eater and he was beginning to search, pulling open the cupboard and running his hands along the walls, as if there were a secret compartment. Harry's brow furrowed as he watched, the masked man tearing the room apart, throwing papers and old clothing over his shoulder as he looked.

He looked for a long time, starting over when he had finally searched every inch of it. Harry was curious, creeping around behind him and watching to see what he was aiming for. He worried about Ron as he waited for the right moment– he was probably battling more than one and alone. He calmed himself and blew gently over the Death Eater's shoulder. As he turned around, he gripped the ring in his hand tightly and Harry raised his wand to stun him. As the red light fired off, he whipped around and threw up a shield, looking wildly around the room now.

"Come out," he demanded.

"Your magic is strong," he added as an afterthought. Harry moved quickly under his cloak, crossing the room. He watched and panicked as the figure spoke. _"__Homenum __Revelio,__"_ he said clearly. Harry tried to duck out of the room, but the swooping feeling crept over him before he could escape. He froze as he felt a gaze fix on him through the cloak. The first burst of energy crashed toward him and he ducked, rolling out of the way and praying to whoever would listen that the cloak did not expose him as he cast a disillusionment charm to hide himself again.

"_Impedimenta_!" the voice was low and rough, running over him with a sense of fear as Harry bolted from the room, whispering curses over his shoulder. He'd heard that voice before, but where? Harry glanced over and saw that he was quickly being gained on.

_Fuck,_ he thought, looking ahead. There was nothing, unless–

"_Reducto!_" he yelled, pointing his wand up at the ceiling as he ran. His pursuer vanished the falling debris, stumbling only slightly as Harry continued to pelt down the stairs. His mind whirred through jinxes and charms to slow him down as he saw Ron's bright hair come into view. A stream of fire hissed past him as he descended the last flight of stairs, singeing his hair.

He felt a non-verbal _Imperio_ strike him as he struggled to continue running. The voice filled his head again, the soft regality running through him as he resisted and dragged his feet along the corridor. As his head cleared, he shot an _obscuro_ but the figure continued to advance toward him.

"_Incarcerous_," he tried, over his shoulder. The ropes were sliced through before they even touched him and Harry nearly smacked himself. "_Defodio_," he called as he stopped abruptly and turned around, his wand aimed directly at the figure's chest. As the figure came to a screeching halt, he let out a noise of obvious pain and clutched at his chest. It began to hollow out and Harry felt slightly nauseous, reminded of Snape's curse he'd used in the bathroom.

Gathering himself, he snatched the ring from around the Death Eater's neck and made to search for Ron. He ran into the kitchen to find him duelling with two other masked figures, struggling to stay on his feet. "_Expecto __Patronum,_" he intoned calmly, watching the silver stag run through the two long enough for him to grab Ron and disapparate.

**Monday, 4th January 1999  
>10.23pm<strong>

Hermione had cried herself to sleep and Draco had reluctantly pulled her blankets down from her room to cover her on the couch. He held them rather carefully– after all, who knew what illicit things the Golden Couple got up to when he was sleeping next door.

She had given him long details about their romantic life and if Draco were honest, that did not sound the least like Weasley. The very idea of him purchasing books was hilarious, let alone to impress his girlfriend. He listened to every word she said, fetching tissue boxes as he tried not to think about them in the snow, battling for their lives for the ring.

Merlin knew why Harry wanted that cryptic piece of junk. (Draco wouldn't admit he wanted to see it too because Weasley would probably never leave him alone. He was a self-preserving Slytherin for a reason.)

He was standing in his room now, looking at Harry's bed set up on the floor. (Draco had immediately kicked him off it when they'd discovered that the Burrow had a room with one lovely double bed. He quite liked sleeping in the _middle_ of it, thank you very much.) Weasley and Potter were fine, now, they were probably on their way back as they waited here for them. The redhead would be as insufferable as always and well, Potter would be... Harry would be there. Safe.

Draco lay down in the bed and tried to revel in the silence, falling into a restless sleep. He dreamed of masked faces and the manor, waking up drenched in sweat as he recalled lying to Bellatrix. As he tried to close his eyes again, he was again claimed by his nightmares.

**Tuesday, 5th January 1999  
>1:46am<strong>

"I'm afraid the floo's broken," he sighed. "You won't be able to contact your friends."

Harry shook his head at their host. They didn't want to tell Hermione and Draco that they were wounded yet. They would return when they were healed, Harry decided, twirling the ring on the chain. He finally understood what Draco meant about the unpleasant feeling. It was decidedly like Slytherin's locket and he felt downright depressed just wearing it.

Ron's wound slowly closed over as Xenophilius Lovegood patched him up carefully, nodding proudly at his work. The angry red skin on his chest glared with scars from the splinch, but Harry was grateful they'd been able to save him at all. He thanked their makeshift healer as he left to make his (in)famous Gurdyroot infusion and shuddered slightly at the memory.

He looked around at the living room, marvelling at the changes since they had last been here. Harry smiled at the photographs of Luna scattered on the walls, running through the fields surrounding their home. She held her mother's hand and reached out to the camera in some (perhaps, beckoning her father over). He dropped his gaze to Ron, who was now snoozing lightly in the pale glow of Xenophilius' wand, hovering gently above him.

"I've made some Gulping Plimpy soup if you're hungry, Mr. Potter," he heard a call from the kitchen. He rose as his stomach grumbled, bracing his stomach for the culinary secrets of the Lovegoods. He suddenly wondered what kind of children Luna would bring up– would she take the traditions to her family? Harry looked up warily as he stepped into the next room, suppressing the urge to run as he saw barely caged Vampire bats fluttering about above him.

"Mr. Lovegood–" he started.

"Please, call me Xeno." He winked at Harry and the extreme discomfort rose through him again.

"Um, alright. Xeno," he continued slowly. Xeno smiled in approval. "I'd like to know what you can tell me about this ring." He held it out before him, dangling it in the light. Xeno moved towards it, reaching out to touch it as Harry pulled it sharply back. He jumped a little in shock.

"You can't touch it," Harry said quickly. "There's a trace on it, you see..." There was a vague nod before Xeno's attention was again focused on the ring. Harry set it down on the table and let him examine it properly, munching on his Plimpy soup slowly. It was absolutely disgusting, but he smiled gratefully when Xeno looked at him anxiously. That seemed to satisfy him and he went back to inspecting the ring, holding out a magnifying glass from nowhere.

There was a long silence as Harry finished his soup and Xeno's brow creased. As his spoon clinked against the side of the bowl, he spoke up. "I've never seen anything like it," he said. "It must be some kind of prophetic ring. The markings?"

"Parseltongue." A curious look passed on his face and Harry shrugged. "Voldemort passed it to me."

"I must know what it says," Xeno said softly, leaning forward. Harry shifted uncomfortably and unconsciously backed away, standing up from his chair.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that," Harry's mind screamed at him to run. Xenophilius gave a sinister smile as he stood and extended an arm to Harry.

"Why don't you give it to me, Mr. Potter?" His face bubbled and Harry gasped as Nott Sr.'s face grinned back at him after a few seconds. He lunged, but Harry had already taken off to see Ron asleep on the couch.

Praying that this time they made it out alive, he apparated them out.

**Tuesday, 5th January 1999  
>6.05am<strong>

She had given up trying to sleep. They hadn't come back home and she had panicked, sobbing into the empty house at four in the morning. Thank goodness Molly and Arthur were away in Rome, she wouldn't want them to see her like that.

Draco had roused about an hour later, startled to see her in the kitchen before he was. He'd made eight cups of tea and drank them all straight up, without his sugar and milk– Harry had complained that he would double their grocery bill in those alone– and sat next to her on the couch in silence. She had caught sight of Ron's broom in the light streaming in through the window and burst into tears again. Draco squeezed her arm lightly, his face hardened as he stared off into the wall.

They waited, facing the door and hoping quietly. Draco made more tea.

**Tuesday, 5th January 1999  
>12.00pm<strong>

The chime shocked Draco and he slid off his hand in alarm. Harry and Weasley still hadn't come back to the house and it was becoming rather annoying, really. How dare they leave them alone? Draco returned to his sandwich, eating it slowly. He had saved food for them both, of course. They could have lunch late and cold for all he cared.

He set the two plates and left the kitchen with his, going up to his room. He was going to continue reading.

**Friday, 8th January 1999  
>4.09pm<strong>

Draco stared at the vase, smashed to pieces against the wall. Hermione looked on worriedly, but didn't say anything, arms wrapped around herself.

If they came out alright, Draco was planning to beat the shit out of them when they finally showed up. Hermione had cried for hours yesterday until she finally ran out of tears, or so she said. The fear was etched into her face as she sniffled for the last time he'd seen.

He heard her again, this morning.

**Sunday, 10th January 1999  
>7.04am<strong>

Draco wouldn't admit it, but Hermione knew he was as worried and scared as she was. He had broken most of the glass in the house, lashing out at her when she tried to repair it. Hermione missed Ron so much, wondering if they were alright and whether they had succeeded.

They were right, of course. But it was dangerous. She still wished they hadn't gone into it headfirst like that. Hermione wasn't sure she was going to go completely spare before they returned. She glanced over at the blond, who had taken to sleeping on the couch whenever he could. He would sleep restlessly, waking up randomly terrified. Hermione had had nightmares for months too– but she had also had friends she could go to for support.

Harry and Ron had to come back soon. She wouldn't be able to solve the problem if they were gone. She watched Draco grab another book and bury himself in it. She supposed this was harder for him. She checked her watch and chuckled weakly to herself.

Maybe Ron was trying to break his record time of leaving-the-group. Remembering that, she sobered again. Draco shifted in his sleep.

* * *

><p>This is my index for those of you who are confused about the spells here...<strong><br>**

**Spells Used in this Chapter (Grimmauld Place Battle)**  
>Stunning spell<br>Unnamed Shield Charm  
><em>Homonem Revelio<em> (Reveals human presences– all bodies appear to have a marker)  
>Disillusionment Charm<br>_Impedimenta_ (Impediment Jinx; slows movement)  
><em>Reducto<em> (Reductor Curse; blasts solid objects out of the way.)  
>Unnamed fire curse<br>_Imperio_ (Imperius Curse; surrenders victim to caster's will)  
><em>Obscuro <em>(Blocks victim's vision)  
><em>Incarcerous<em> (Binds victim in ropes)  
>Severing charm<br>_Defofio_ (Gouging Spell; digs or hollows through the target)  
><em>Expecto Patronum<em> (Patronus Charm; Repels Dementors. Used as a magical distraction)

Leave me a review please! :3


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I lost all my work for this chapter when I first completed it. Reviews are definitely welcome, thanks for following the story so far! Hope you're enjoying it.

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday, 10th January 1999<br>9.01am**

Harry could finally see the Burrow in the distance through the rain clouding his vision. He stumbled slightly as pain shot up his left leg, crumbling under Ron's weight as he struggled to stay upright. "Oy," he yanked at Ron's arm slung around him. "You have to stay up, we're almost there."

They were soaked to the bone in rain, sweat and blood as they trudged up the hill, shoes squelching. He was only to aware his shirt slowly staining red again as the wound in his arm tore open again slowly under the fabric. Harry's jaw hardened and pulled them forward again, ignoring the throbbing in his back. Ron's shoulder reeked of fresh blood, the warmth seeping through Harry's jacket with every step they took.

Magic coursed through Harry weakly, but he knew that he had more than exhausted himself trying to keep them alive. Ron had broken his wand after two hours of pursuit, after he had punched Nott and they had apparated into muggle London. Harry had hurriedly cast warming charms over them both constantly as they tried to find sanctuary again, shivering in the cold of the English winter surrounding them.

The last they had seen, Marcus Flint (Harry couldn't say he was surprised, really) had accosted them on the way to the Leaky Cauldron, demanding the ring from them. Harry had shot off a quick bedazzling hex, stealing his wand and taking off, dragging Ron behind him.

They had finally apparated into Mrs. Figg's house, stopping long enough to heal their minor wounds before they spotted Rowle prowling outside the Dursleys' house. Harry had then decided to take them back home, no longer caring if they were pursued. Hermione would be stronger than them both and Ron wouldn't last without the help.

They had been running for days by then, he knew. He had wished countless times that he had bothered to learn more healing spells at Hogwarts– _Episkey_ had only managed to heal his broken nose when they had been assaulted in London by drunks and Ron's chest wound never completely closed over properly after he had thrown his fist at a muggle woman who tried to corner with a gun, ripping Xenophilius' neat stitches open. "Ron," he insisted as his head lolled back dangerously. "Hermione is right there, we have to get to her, come on..."

Ron groaned in response and flinched away slightly while Harry struggled to find his wand. He couldn't chance them apparating– he was too weak, they would lose limbs if he tried– but he thought he had just enough to send for Hermione with his patronus. Ron lurched again and spat thick, congealed liquid into his hand, sending chills down Harry's back. He raised his wand and gathered his thoughts. "_Expecto__–"_

His spell was cut off as he coughed violently. The soreness of his throat, the dry scratch, had been driving him insane for hours and he couldn't afford to lose his voice now, he needed to get home–

"Harry?" he heard a familiar, low voice behind him and Harry could have fainted on the spot with relief. He craned his neck to look over at Draco, whose eyes were darting between them rapidly. He was so pale, hair matted and covered in mud, completely drenched. "Hi," he smiled weakly at him, unsteady on his feet as the rain got heavier. He hated the Burrow's weather charms– Molly had cast a temporary 'snowproofing' on their house while they were away. Hadn't Hermione tried to lift it yet? "Don't suppose you'd like to help, would you?"

Draco just stood there and stared. The warmth from Ron's shoulder started to scream at him for help and he tried again, to snap Draco out of his reverie. This wasn't the time to space out, dammit! "Draco, go get Hermione," he called. "Ron's–"

He held up a hand and Harry fell silent despite himself. "English, Harry," he responded, brow furrowing. His dropped his arms back to his sides while he tensed, standing away from them. "I can't–"

"Ron's bleeding, it's probably a sectumsempra wound, Draco–" It wasn't the time for a _conversation,_ Ron was probably dying and Draco wanted to chat in the rain?

"_English_," Draco pressed, even as he moved forward to help Harry support Ron's weight. Harry didn't understand but shut his mouth hurriedly as they moved towards the Burrow together. As they neared the door, Draco rushed into the house and Harry staggered, trying to pull Ron's weight onto him as he swung away from him. His hands were so pale now, water dripping off the sallow skin and Harry tried to focus on the ragged heaving resting on him.

Harry dragged him into the living room and threw him down on the couch, slicing open the thin material of his shirt to examine his wound and grimaced, suppressing the nauseous feeling rising in his stomach. He pulled out his wand and held it over him, just as Hermione's voice rang through the stairwell. "Harry, is that you?"

She looked terrible, really, eyes bloodshoot and shoulders sagging heavily as she rushed in to see them. "Hermione," he pleaded with her. "It's– I don't know how to fix it– I can't touch the wound–"

"Again, Harry. In English," she said, exasperated, not moving from her spot in the doorway. "I've had enough without having to deal with this, alright?" He stared at her dumbly but opened his mouth to try again. Why couldn't they understand?

"I don't know what you mean–"

"Potter, we don't speak snake, alright?" Draco shot at him as he brought over some clean towels to clean off the blood and examine for other wounds. He rolled Harry's sleeves up and pressed one against a gash forming on his arm, holding him gently as he cleaned it off. Harry shoved his wand back into his pocket and watched as Hermione slowly moved into the room, stepping carefully and hissed in pain as Draco applied something to his cut. "Do you have the ring?" Hermione asked mildly.

"Yes, but you've got to help me with Ron first." She put her hand to her forehead and counted softly in her head and Draco stiffened, pulling his hands away into his lap. Harry looked wildly at them both and they looked at each other before Draco nodded, pushing himself to his feet reluctantly, going into the kitchen. She crossed the room to the couch, resting one hand on Ron's shoulder and looking him over worriedly, moving one hand towards–

"Hermione, don't!" he lunged for her as she tried to touch _it_, pushing her out of the way. No, she couldn't, it would probably burn her fingers too...

"For God's sake, Potter!" He felt Draco collide with his chest as he tumbled backwards, away from her. Hermione's hand hovered above the wound, stilled and Harry desperately struggled against Draco, trying to get her away from it. He snarled at Draco, who had grasped his wrists and pinned him to the floor. He tried to talk to her again, calmer, softer. "Don't touch it, Hermione," he instructed.

**Sunday, 10th January 1999  
>9.17am<strong>

Harry was hissing like a lunatic at Hermione as she stopped in the doorway. He didn't blame her, he was scaring them both. Draco felt memories of the Dark Lord course through him, speaking to the snake, walking through the corridors in the manor, offering the corpses to her. He shook them out of his head and tried to refocus on Harry, who was still trying to tell them something... Hermione looked at him desperately and he nodded to her, moving out of the way so she could talk to him.

Honestly, he didn't think that she would be able to coax him, Golden Trio or not. Draco watched carefully from the kitchen, trying to wash the blood off the towel as he did, but Potter's eyes widened and jumped up–

He wasn't sure how he'd got there in time, but he had tackled him to the floor, pinning him down. "For God's sake, Potter!" he yelled, trying to knock some sense into him. Harry wasn't paying attention, staring intently at Hermione and _again_ with the sibilant sounds. "Potter," he tried slowly, trying to keep his calm. "We can't understand you."

Draco watched him still under him and stop thrashing, eyes widening in some kind of recognition. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, seeming to collect himself. Harry opened his eyes and hissed again, but it was slow, deliberate and questioning.

"Harry, I can't–" He put a hand up to silence him and nodded towards Hermione, pushing him off gently, pleadingly. Draco let him go, the sense of fear overtaken by curiosity as he got up, pulling his bloody jacket off. He moved toward Hermione and took her hand away from the wound. Pulling out his wand again, he fired off a small explosion in the air and gestured at the wound, squeezing her hand. She slowly pulled out her wand and hovered it above the wound as well and he nodded, pleased.

His jaw dropped as Hermione stunned him calmly, pulling her into a loose ponytail as she set to work on Healing them both. "Draco," she called indifferently. "Could you move Harry up to your room please?" She cast a quick lightening charm and looked up at him, but Draco continued to gape at her. She snapped her fingers impatiently.

He picked Harry up and she sighed as Ron's skin knitted back together, looking at Harry again apologetically. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispered, pulling the chain of the ring off his neck. She patted Draco awkwardly and offered him a smile of comfort. Draco didn't smile back.

**Sunday, 10th January 1999  
>4.09pm<strong>

He woke to an unfamiliar smell beside him in the bed. He rolled slightly into the warmth, breathing it in– cinnamon, was it? Harry frowned, eyes still shut and inhaled again, gently. It didn't matter.

"Harry," a voice called him rather hoarsely. Hadn't he been at Mrs. Figg's with Ron? Who was that? He cracked an eye open to find Draco staring and he groaned, rolling onto his back away from him. Harry prayed that he would leave him alone soon, not quite wanting to face the sun.

Draco didn't move, still holding gently onto his wrist. "G'way, Draco," he mumbled into the pillow he pulled onto his face. Draco pulled the pillow away and gripped his hand tighter.

"Wonderful. You're in English again," he seemed to be talking to himself, pulling off the blankets and opening the window. Harry glared at him and Draco rolled his eyes, handing him a cup of tea. Harry took a sip gratefully as Draco proceeded with his speech, not hearing a word he said until Draco sat on the bed again. "Merlin, Harry, you've been gone for days without a word. What did you expect?"

He refused to respond as he prattled on. "Hermione's been worried sick, you know, the least you could do is tell us where you've been. I mean, you could have sent your patronus or apparated back here but you've been everywhere, haven't you? And those wound–"

"Shut up," he said loudly, head pounding. "The Death Eaters were chasing us, alright? Coming back here too soon would reveal our location, so we had to k-kill them." He sat up on his elbows as Draco stopped pacing around the room and looked at him, horrified. Harry grabbed his glasses off the bedside table and checked the gash on his arm, now nicely sealed with a thin white scar. He looked up, quite shocked, and tried to suppress the memories of Rowle's empty eyes staring up at him, vacant and very dead.

"What did they want, anyway?" Harry asked himself aloud, tiredly. He felt all the muscles in his body aching as he sat up properly to cross his legs on the bed. Draco was staring in his direction and Harry waved in front of his face.

When Draco didn't respond, he rolled his eyes and looked around. "Where are we?"

"The Burrow, of course," Draco shook his head slightly and rose an eyebrow.

"The Burrow? How did we end up at the Burrow?"

There was an awkward silence as Draco looked at him inquisitively, eyebrow still raised and disappearing into his hair. "...Potter, you dragged Weasley all the way up to the house."

"I did?"

"Weren't you on the run?"

"Yes, but..." Harry frowned. "Why?"

"What in the name of Circe are you talking about? You had the ring, you were running, what do you mean 'why?'?"

Harry stared at him dumbly. Draco threw his hands up in the air in exasperation, going to the nearby drawer and rummaging through it until he pulled out an intricate silver chain. He moved to sit on the bed, holding a ring in front of Harry's face. "Ring a bell?"

He reached out to grab and still it, the slow swing driving him insane. "Are you mental?" Draco hissed at him, pulling it out of reach. Harry glowered at him.

"_What_?"

"Have you forgotten that there's a _trace_ on it?" Draco sneered at him.

"A trace on what?"

"This, you daft git!"

"_What __is __it_?" Harry was tired of playing by now. Merlin, he just wanted to sleep...

"Potter, did you hit your head too hard?" Draco was shouting now and Harry was thoroughly confused, slowly processing Draco's information as he seethed. Alright, they were at the Burrow, safe, but when had they gotten here? Was Ron alive? Hermione? And that bloody ring, what was so fucking special about it?

...Why had they been running in the first place? In fact...

"Why are _you_ here?" Harry asked him softly, but more to himself. Draco put an arm out to steady himself as he stared at Harry in alarm. Harry straightened up and glanced uneasily at the ring. He couldn't remember, he just knew that they were friends. _Odd,_ his brain supplied unhelpfully. Harry's stomach churned as Draco's mouth fell into a perfect 'o'.

Draco moved a little closer and his expression softened slightly. Harry thought he was probably visibly worried now. "_I_ brought this to you, don't you remember?" he was just as quiet as he responded to Harry's question, silently begging him to say yes. Harry tried to convince him again.

"I _told_ you, I don't–"

"You don't remember," Draco breathed. Harry shut his mouth abruptly, starting to wonder if he had lost his mind while they were, apparently, on the run from Death Eaters. The blond grabbed the chain, halting his thoughts, and made toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked worriedly.

"To get Hermione."

**Sunday, 10th January 1999  
>4.33pm<strong>

"Hermione, for the last time, I don't remember that thing," Harry sighed out to her as she bit her lip again, examining it in the light. He put his hand on hers and lowered it, shooting her a meaningful look. They both knew by now he had been obliviated, it was obvious enough, but she needed to calm down.

"I know, Harry, it's just–" she paused and seemed to reorganise her words in her head. "You've been gone for days after going to steal this back and it's just a little–"

"I didn't steal it," Harry cut her off. "I think I'd remember it if I did."

"Mate, you don't have to be so difficult–"

Ron faltered at Harry's sharp gaze, coweringly slightly behind Hermione. Draco leant against the headboard, sitting comfortably on the bed with him as Hermione questioned him on Grimmauld Place and their escape to the Burrow and he wasn't sure that they weren't lying to him when they said he had blown a hole clean through the floor of Sirius' bedroom. He wanted to bury himself in the blankets and never come out.

**Sunday, 10th January 1999  
>4.34pm<strong>

Draco's heart plummeted into his stomach when Harry said he hadn't stolen it. Ron sputtered at him, trying to defend Hermione, and he snickered slightly as Harry turned on him, daring him to carry on.

Hermione's eyes darted between them, the gears in her mind turning slowly, but eventually she fell silent and stood, leaving Harry to look out the window and sigh heavily. He pulled his knees up to his chest and sighed in a kind of relief as she left. Draco tried to rest a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off and continued staring at the fields outside.

He imagined that he was lucky, being obliviated in the company of friends who could help to piece it back together for you. Draco shifted on the bed, watching Harry as he saw images flash past his eyes and he searched for the memories that were no longer there. He growled in frustration and buried his face in his knees.

If Hermione's theory was correct, the ring would only obliviate all memories pertaining to it– Harry remembered everything else that had nothing to do with it perfectly. They just sat like that for a long time before he reached out to the brunette carefully to inspect his arm. As he turned it over, Harry flinched and drew back slightly and Draco stopped moving, not daring to look up.

"You did this before," he said, unsure. Draco nodded. Harry pulled his arm back in and rested his chin on his knees. "Why were we in muggle London together?" he asked– Harry was looking, his green, curious gaze fixed on him. Draco's breath caught before he smiled reassuringly back.

"Honestly, Harry, you brought us there, who knows?" he rested his head back and looked up at the ceiling Hermione had enchanted two days ago, reminiscent of Hogwarts.

**Monday, 11th January 1999  
>9.54am<strong>

They ate breakfast in silence, Ron rubbing his neck occasionally to ease the dull ache. Hermione had finally managed to stitch the wounds shut with little issue, but they were keeping a constant watch, paranoia setting in as it turned a horrible purple colour.

Harry hadn't spoken to her since she left the day before– Draco had spent the night filling him in, finally falling into an exhausted slumber when scarhead was satisfied. He watched as Harry gripped his wand tightly in his hand and felt a pang of jealousy. After a panicked set of diagnosis charms, he had calmly picked up his wand and cast a warming charm, ignoring Hermione's mouth hanging open. Harry's magic was _fine_.

It was a snowy morning and they had double-coated the house in magical heat, trying to maintain the house while Molly and Arthur were still away. Ron spoke up first, startling Draco slightly. "Bill owled last night," he announced carefully. Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise and Draco leaned forward in interest. They gestured for him to continue while Harry looked on, feigning disinterest and watching Pigwidgeon twitter around their heads.

"He said they could hide, well, the you-know-what for us. At Gringott's," Ron continued. Harry snorted at that and Ron grinned. He pushed his cereal away, picking up the issue of the _Quibbler_ Luna had sent them while they were gone. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Ron's obvious discomfort and flattened his mouth into a hard line.

He caught Harry's gaze, trying to dissuade him. If the Golden Trio had been able to steal a horcrux and a fucking dragon from Gringott's, how easily would it be taken?

Then again, he supposed, Bill Weasley was a curse-breaker. In Egypt. He would be able to protect it for them, even if it was temporarily.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, hopeful. Draco glared at her and Harry put out a hand to rest on his shoulder.

"Alright," Harry said to Ron, squeezing Draco's shoulder reassuringly. _It__'__ll __be __okay_, it said. Draco relaxed despite himself, but he still doubted Weasley would be able to protect it the way they could. He bit his lip and stared down into his toast, keeping his eyes downcast. "We'll keep it there for now."

**Monday, 11th January 1999  
>10.01am<strong>

They apparated into a deserted area beside the apothecary and Harry immediately flattened himself against the wall of the alley as they waited, holding his breath. He heard Draco sniff a little and smiled, thinking of how Hermione and he had run to hide from _him. _Dumbledore's words rang in his ears as he watched the main street carefully. _You __must __not __be __seen_.

Hermione pulled him further into the shadow and they straightened up, well-hidden. She cast a _tempus_, nodding to herself and they stared out into Diagon Alley, watching the young witches and wizards walking by in their hats and robes, oblivious to them as they carried their shopping bags– some with owl cages, others with firm grips on their cats.

Then they spotted him walk by, with the bright signature red hair. Hermione nudged him gently and Harry threw on his invisibility cloak, carefully checking that he was fully concealed– satisfied at the lack of shadow, he started forward confidently. "Good luck," he heard Ron call softly. He stepped into the crowd gingerly, careful not to lose sight of the tall redhead.

**Monday, 11th January 1999  
>10.08am<strong>

Ron turned to the others. "Let's go, then," he muttered, pointing further into the darkness.

They stepped slowly, hearing their footsteps echo against the walls and fell into a tense silence. Hermione held her wand out, feeling along the wall as the sunlight disappeared overhead and they slipped into the corridors of Knockturn Alley. Ron shuddered a little, feeling the cold air seep up around them.

He breathed slowly and deeply, trying to keep his calm as they rounded the corners carefully, avoiding eye contact with the occasional portrait hanging ominously over them, watching them with their hawk-like eyes. Borgin & Burkes loomed ahead and they pressed forward, drawing their cloaks tighter around them.

As they approached the street, Draco poked his head out and beckoned them forward. Hermione cast disillusionment charms before they stepped into the snow-covered road. They stepped slowly, casting obliteration charms to hide their footprints as they crossed over to the shop. Ron was rather nervous, feeling his hands tremble slightly on his wand as they narrowly avoided some suspicious people. He tried to calm himself down– Draco had agreed to speak to Mr. Borgin to find out more about his father's ring and Ron was still eager to escape Knockturn as soon as possible.

A group of women approached the shop and they kept up a hushed conversation. They spoke animatedly behind their hands and Ron froze, listening in carefully and sidestepping them as they passed. They had familiar features and light blond hair, distinctly aristocratic. He wrinkled his nose– bloody Malfoys were everywhere. "Cissy must be in France by now–"

He barely overheard them before he found himself being abruptly dragged into an empty alcove, Draco crouched down and watching the group disappear into the shop, hand covering Ron's mouth. Hermione backed against the cold stone and froze as well, trying to make herself invisible. "What the hell, Malfoy?" Ron hissed at him. Draco pressed a finger to his lips, pointing to the door and watching the women flutter about in the shop. _I__ know __them_, he mouthed to Ron. They all watched as Mr. Borgin lead them to the back, very pleased with himself. Ron frowned.

"Death Eaters," Draco pulled them both down and whispered. "They're father's cousins." Hermione's eyes widened and pulled them away from the shop quickly, breaking into a run as soon as they lost sight of the shop. Ron sped up, catching the red gaze of a shopkeeper grinning at them running by. He shoved Malfoy a little, trying to get them out into an apparition zone– if he was spotted, the game was over.

**Monday, 11th January 1999 **

**10.07am**

Harry turned into the busy street, catching sight of Bill again as he looked left and right, searching for them in the crowd. He hurried forward, bypassing a group of giggling teenagers and cringing as he saw an article about his disappearance on their copy of _the__ Daily__ Prophet_. Great. He ducked under a low-flying owl and reached out to grasp the mauve sleeve, feeling the material slip through his fingers as he crashed into an old man carrying a snake around his neck.

He weaved through the crowd, narrowly avoiding an ice cream cone from a child running through to his mother. He finally managed and caught the sleeve of Bill's robe, tugging gently as he trailed behind.

Bill turned his head in confusion, paused for a moment but continued walking and Harry pulled lightly again. He nodded this time in acknowledgement and they continued on to the joke shop. George would hide them. They turned into the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes and Bill leaned over. "Stay close," he said. Harry rolled his eyes and continued to trail behind him, disappearing behind a curtain at the back of the shop after Bill gave the signal, briefly chatting with his brother. Harry pulled the cloak off and smiled gleefully at the products lining the walls of their storage cupboard.

Bill came in and Harry wasn't going to waste time. "Here," he said immediately, fishing out a red pouch from his pocket. Bill held out a hand and he dropped it into the waiting palm ungracefully, shoving his hands back into his pockets after. "Obliviation after prolonged exposure, trace activated upon magical contact. That's what we know," Harry continued. "the text is parseltongue, _eclipse __the __brightest __light_."

He watched the pouch disappear into Bill's robes. "We'll have the goblins look at it," he said. "Don't worry, Harry." He pulled out another ring from his robes and handed it over. Harry rolled it in his hand, looking up questioningly. It was a good copy, he supposed, though Harry couldn't read this one– all it was was a set of markings covering the silver surface.

"If you need to, you can 'lose' it in battle," Bill said, winking. He turned away to leave through the curtain. "Wait!" Harry called, remembering something suddenly.

"Um, I started speaking it after wearing it for a day," he tried to explain to Bill, hoping he could help. "Parseltongue. Hermione and Draco couldn't understand me."

Bill surveyed him curiously but nodded without a word. Then, he was gone with a soft pop.

Harry felt oddly bereft without the weight hanging around his neck.

**Thursday, 14th January 1999  
>2.03am<strong>

Draco glared at the fake lying on the dressing table in their room, unable to sleep. Harry carried on sleeping, mumbling his worries into the darkness. Sometimes he would scream, but Draco thought that was alright.

He had nightmares too, after all.

**Sunday, 17th January 1999  
>8.04am<strong>

Hermione sat primly on the edge of her seat, looking expectantly at Harry and Draco as they entered the kitchen, rubbing sleep from their eyes. Harry pushed him forward and Draco stumbled slightly, glaring at the brunette. He sighed and turned to Hermione.

She had been worried sick since they ran out of books for her to read. She twisted a ribbon anxiously between her fingers, eyes shifting nervously. They had been trying to find a library they could break into, but Harry had only managed to think of one the day before, quickly pinning the owner down and getting into a fight with Draco at three in the morning.

"I can take you to Malfoy Manor," Draco gritted his teeth as he spoke, rubbing the bruise on his shoulder Harry had left the night before. Hermione's jaw dropped.

Harry chuckled into his coffee, watching her eyes light up and positively sparkle at the prospect of being in the biggest personal library in England. After a shouting match within a silencing charm, a kick to his side and a punch to Draco's shoulder, he had finally managed to convince him to allow her into it, if only to shut her up, but he was about to find out that even libraries could not silence Hermione's– er– monologues. Draco grabbed his coffee and sat in a precariously angled chair, wincing as she started off.

"Of course," she muttered. "It would have all the texts we need about the charms, maybe how to reverse them or we could start to revive the memories– oh, we could probably solve the parseltongue on the ring as well, You-Know-Who must have left some kind of trace of the language there and we'll be able to understand the riddle–"

"Hermione," Ron joined them, looping an arm easily around her and she silenced, blushing. "Sorry," she mumbled out. Ron turned to him, curious.

"We're going to Malfoy Manor," Harry supplied helpfully. Draco glared at him again and Harry pushed over some toast, sending an apologetic look. He watched Ron paled slightly, but he nodded. Hermione touched her fingers lightly to the white lines on her arm, tracing the words carved into her. _Mudblood. _Harry frowned a little– he wasn't sure that they were ready to go back.

"Why?"

"The library," Draco smirked. Ron smiled back knowingly and Draco turned to Hermione again. He pushed the toast back to Harry before he spoke. "but you have to get us _in_ there first."

She grabbed a pencil off the table and sprinted up the stairs for her notebook. Harry smiled and sat in her recently vacated chair, regarding Draco carefully. "Told you," he announced triumphantly. Draco rolled his eyes and sat across him, stirring sugar into his tea. (Harry had discovered that he drank obscenely sweet tea and had once asked him, "Would you like some tea with your sugar?", which earned him a whack to his head.)

Of course, it wouldn't be easy– Draco could no longer access the manor's collection without his magical signature and the wards were probably older than Hogwarts. However, Harry would bet that Draco had simply horribly underestimated Hermione. He sipped his coffee proudly.

"Alright, Draco," she reappeared in the doorway with some parchment. "What exactly do you know about the wards?"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I've decided to move to updating this once a week so I can make room for another fic I want to start on... Also I've changed the title of this fic to "Refractions" to better suit the rest of the story. Cheers!

As always, my work goes through my beta, Sofia. And my pages app messes my italics up.

Please leave me a review!

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday, 17th January 1999<br>6.02pm**

They apparated into the main foyer and Hermione paled dangerously, swaying unsteadily on her feet. Ron gripped her hand tightly and they pulled at their clothes, trying to get them tighter, warmer. Trying to ignore the familiar surroundings– even the paintings had not changed since that day over Easter, looming down on them as they inched towards the door. They held their wands out, ready to attack anyone who crossed their path.

Draco wasn't sure if the manor was empty, moving carefully behind Harry. The foyer was bloodstained and full of cobwebs, their footprints clear in the dust around them. He remembered Narcissa's instructions to the elves, to never touch the room again as long as they lived, and her trembling hands locking the door for the last time. He remembered the Death Eaters prowling in the corridors of their home during the war, waiting, just _waiting_, for the Dark Lord to return.

He saw another set of tracks and tensed momentarily, eyes wide.

Harry grabbed his hand gently and pulled him forward. "It's okay," he said softly, pointing back at the fresh markings in the layer of grime around them. Harry's hands were icy, shaking slightly as they stepped towards the door for the second time. The last time they had come to the manor had been darker and more comforting, cradling them in a blanket of safety as the moon shone down on them. Now, the sun was hanging low in the sky, casting long shadows and illuminating the room with a red glow.

Cocking his head, he wondered if they had left the door ajar when they visited before. Hermione paused, examining the door frame and casting a few charms in rapid Latin before stepping through slowly, looking around in the corridor. Draco watched in interest– she was much less bold than Harry, who had stepped out and dragged him unceremoniously to the study without so much as a glance backwards. She beckoned to them as she cleared the door, walking down the corridor silently. Ron and Harry followed her immediately, falling into step behind.

Draco looked back into the foyer and nodded a goodbye to it before he hurried behind them. He ignored the feeling of fresh, unfamiliar magic in the air. They had to be alone.

**Sunday, 17th January 1999  
>6.17pm<strong>

"There," he pointed at the heavy doors around the corner. Harry peered curiously around with Hermione and he grinned at the sight, finally having found it. Ron snorted. "Trust the Malfoys to have bloody golden doors..."

Harry chuckled as Draco glared at him, advancing towards the entrance. Hermione gasped softly as they approached it, staring up high at the intricate designs twisting into the metal. He stood there, crossed his arms and turned to her, extending an arm towards the door. "Have at it then, Granger," he said, bowing low to her and moving aside as she pulled out her notes and stepped forward with her wand. She pointed her wand up at the door and began murmuring softly.

A soft white light spilled out of her wand, spreading out around her and creeping up to the door. It met with a shimmering, moving wall of magic, illuminating it and turning it a dark shade of blue. The light weaved itself through the thick net of sapphire trying to strangle it, lightening it to an expanse of pale green. Draco, Harry and Ron looked on, entranced as the colour spread over the blue wards, solidifying into a wall of calm colour.

Hermione wiped her forehead as she released the white light and the wall ceased to glow, turning into a glassy barrier around the door. She turned to Ron and grinned, nodding to it. He raised his wand. "_Expulso_," he whispered, and the glass shattered to pieces as the spell collided with it. Hermione walked forward confidently, checking around them for any sign of unwanted company, and placed her hand on the doorknob, clicking it open.

Draco's jaw fell open. Harry clapped him on the back as they moved inside the library, surveying the massive walls of books nervously. Hermione had already crossed the room to the far shelf, running her fingers along the dusty tomes and thrusting her wand back in her pocket to free her hands to hold the books she was pulling out.

Ron rubbed his temples in frustration before he groaned in resignation and went to help her, taking the stack of books to the massive table in the centre of the library. Draco turned right sharply and disappeared down an aisle, Harry following him carefully. They stopped in front of a particular shelf and Harry watched his eyes dart along the titles, obviously searching. Then, he reached out and pulled a book from the shelf right above Harry's head, pulling it into his arms and balancing it precariously as he tried to flip it.

It was obviously heavy and very old, written in French. Draco was reading it aloud, but mostly to himself, as he scanned through the pages. Then, he stopped abruptly in the book and pointed to a sketch of a ring in the book, startling Harry slightly as he hurried to turn the book around for him. "Les jumeaux," he announced, pointing at it. "Twins." He stared at him dumbly.

"Look," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper and checking that Ron and Hermione were busy at their shelf. He pulled out a photograph from his back pocket and held it out to Harry. Draco was in it, wearing a ring like the fake he kept hanging around his neck. "I don't remember this either," Draco admitted, pointing to the photograph and then to the book. "but I remember reading about this, and mother telling me one day I would have a present just like it."

Harry nodded, understanding washing over him. "Do you think you have it?" he asked hopefully. Draco brought his hand up to his chin, frowning. Harry let him, scanning over the sketches in the book of rings carefully and searching for clues. "Well..." he responded slowly. He paused again and pressed his lips together as he considered it. "It could be in my room, I think. I don't know." He looked out to the other two again, who were now arguing animatedly over an article in the book they were reading together.

Draco pointed to a small statue of a dog off to the side, near the aisle in which they stood. "There's a passageway there," he said. Harry raised an eyebrow and Draco flushed a little. "A dog, Malfoy?" he teased, shoving him gently. He shoved back and glared, a distinct shade of pink. "Shut up, Potter, it's a crup. Only muggles breed _dogs_." He held his nose in the air and stroked the statue gently. It bowed its head and the passage behind it opened softly, the bricks melting away into an arch and a long, dark corridor.

Harry was confused. "How did you do that?" he questioned.

Draco turned, holding up his hand. "I stroked it?"

"No, well– I mean– yes, but you don't have any magic," Harry babbled, trying to understand. "How did you open it?"

Draco dropped his hand and stared at it, then at the dog, then at the passageway. Harry shook his head. "Nevermind," he said reassuringly. "It doesn't matter anyway." They stepped awkwardly into it, guided by the dim light shining from Harry's wand.

**Sunday, 17th January 1999  
>6.47pm<strong>

Harry climbed out first, hastily extinguishing his wand and glancing warily up and down the corridor. The portraits lining the walls whispered to each other, some grinning menacingly as he helped Draco through. He shuddered as a painted Bellatrix flitted into a nearby frame, kicking the cat off its perch and settling to watch them.

He turned away to see Draco hesitating, hand outstretched toward the statue to close the passageway. Eyeing the arch, he stepped forward and stroked it, immediately stuffing his hands into his pockets. They fell into a tense silence as the bricks dissolved into a wall again, watching each other out of the corners of their eyes and Harry fought not to fidget as Draco pulled on a lever, releasing a tapestry over the wall.

Someone coughed and they jumped, looking wildly around. Harry's eyes finally landed on Bellatrix, now grinning happily and twirling her wand as she stalked out of the frame. Draco nudged him, pressed a finger to his lips and they started down the corridor, cradled in the darkness of the shadows cast by the occasional torches lighting the way. They crept along the smooth walls, shivering in the growing chill of the house.

Momentarily distracted by a vase that probably cost more than his entire fortune, Harry flinched as Draco's cold fingers closed around his wrist to pull him down the corridor. He pointed ahead and they took off quickly, still careful to silence their footsteps even as they passed the doors adorned with metal roses twisted along the ominous carvings of snakes.

Harry rolled his eyes– of course the Malfoys would have _snakes_. Everything in the manor screamed expense and luxury, even barely lit by the flame. Draco turned abruptly to a door at the end and pressed his hand to the surface gently. "This one," he whispered.

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise at the strangely light wood, with dragons and mermaids carved neatly into the surface. He chuckled a little as he unlocked the door and Draco flushed darkly. "Shut up," he hissed, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

It was beautifully childlike, with a high ceiling and a simple four poster bed in the centre. Toys were strewn everywhere– a small broomstick, stuffed owls and some large wooden blocks lying beside a short wand. Draco stood across the room at a dresser, rummaging through it and throwing scarves over his shoulder as he did so. Harry started searching the nearby desk, pushing aside potions textbooks and unopened letters, pulling open drawers and opening boxes carefully.

He came across particularly empty drawer and frowned, peering into it. Just as he was about to reach in, a hand grabbed him by the arm and he yelped, pulling his hand abruptly out. Draco smirked at him, arms folded. Harry glared.

Draco reached into the drawer and pulled out a leather box from the inside. He shifted it between his hands, toying with it and trying to rattle it. He grimaced and nodded, picking up a key from the drawer and unlocking it slowly, deliberately. Harry's eyes widened as he popped it open, looking over his shoulder to see...

Well, Nothing. Harry smacked him on the back of his head and walked toward the dresser to continue his search. "Git," he said.

"It's gone," Draco's voice came. Harry looked over exasperatedly.

"What is?"

He held the box out to him. Harry lit his wand and walked over, examining the box and frowning at the gap in the velvet, looking very much like a certain empty slot in the study overhead. He passed his wand to Draco, pulling the ring out from beneath his clothes and sliding it into place in the box. They shared a look and moved back to the drawer.

Harry kneeled in front of the drawer, testing it in places for signs of intrusion. It was obvious from the impeccable state that the thief had come in knowing exactly what he was looking for and how to take it. Draco's posture had stiffened dramatically and he stood off to the side, distinctly aloof as he tried to find some clue to who had taken it.

"Who set this ward?"

"Mother did," his voice was tight. Harry tried to ignore it and continue searching– they would run out of time soon and the Order was supposed to meet that night. Professor McGonagall demanded they be there– Kingsley would have just returned from a conference in Germany and the Weasleys would have finished their holiday. He attempted to breach the drawer and access the space behind it.

He wasn't able to pass through the back of it, though, which meant that the thief was probably family– Harry frowned at that. Unless Narcissa herself had it, that meant it had been stolen by a cousin. _Or__ an __uncle,_ Harry added, thinking of Rodolphus Lestrange at the Battle of Hogwarts.

**Sunday, 17th January 1999  
>7:21pm<strong>

Draco leant back against the wall as Harry looked in the drawers again. He fiddled with the ends of his scarf, chewing the inside of his cheek as he watched. He fought to keep his face straight, flashes of memory passing through his mind– he had taken the ring out himself, but he didn't remember anything beyond that– and the pain searing through his head.

Harry continued to search and Draco fought to keep upright. Random bites of sound passed through, talking about the rings. It was muffled, through some kind of wall... He cringed at Rowle's voice. "Potter is going to die," it said. He rubbed his temples as the pain subsided, the images fading down into a dull ache in his mind.

"-co, hey." His head snapped up.

The brunette was looking up at him, green eyes wide with concern. He sighed and folded his arms, waiting for Draco to speak. They stood there in silence for a while until a slight thud reached them. Harry grabbed his arm, pulling him off the wall, and dragged him back into the corridor toward the passage. They ran in the renewed silence, careful to lock doors behind them.

Draco wasn't sure they were alone anymore. Harry groaned and hoped aloud that Ron had _just_ knocked over a bookshelf.

**Sunday, 17th January 1999  
>7:38pm<strong>

As soon as they stepped back into the library, Harry snatched the book Draco had been reading earlier. It was a heavy leather-bound book, filled with aged pages and delicately handwritten in French. Draco pulled it from his arms and gestured to the other shelves, moving to search for their friends in the sea of books.

The library was pristine, Ron and Hermione sitting casually at the back together. Harry panicked and pulled them to their feet quickly. Ron stumbled slightly, dropping a book on Hermione's foot as they struggled to stand. "Mate, what the hell are you doing?"

"We have to get out," he said hurriedly.

He was grateful that Hermione didn't question them, shrinking her books and stuffing them into a bag. She nodded to them before leaving, grabbing Ron and disapparating with a soft pop. Draco took his arm and Harry disapparated as well, abandoning the collection in the manor.

Harry was worried. Draco had had an episode in his room, he was sure, but he would have to find a moment to ask him about it safely. He apparated into the Burrow and leaned forward slightly, regaining his balance again. After assuring himself they were all there and unharmed, he moved toward the staircase, looking pointedly at Draco, who sighed and followed slowly.

**Sunday, 17th January 1999  
>7:42pm<strong>

Draco matched his gaze evenly, leaning back against the door as he closed it behind him. Harry dropped into a chair and waited for him to speak.

"You're going to die," he finally muttered. Harry leaned back and kept his mouth shut, shooting him a questioning look. Draco exhaled slowly and crossed the room to the bed, crossing his legs. He ran a hand through his hair, looking out the window.

Harry watched him carefully, nodding for him to continue. He took the fake and threw it over, smiling slightly as Draco caught it reflexively. He pulled the chain over his head, holding it up to the light. "Rowle said–"

"Rowle's dead," Harry cut him off. Draco's eyes widened in surprise. "I– uh– got him before we came back."

There was a silence as Draco continued shifting the ring between his hands. He held it out to Harry, the light dancing on the snakes. "I took it," he said slowly. "The twin... and they're going to kill you– even if Rowle's dead, I mean."

Harry grinned despite himself. "What else is new?"

"Boy who won't fucking die," Draco simpered mockingly. They laughed and Draco tossed the ring back to him. Harry pulled the chain over, remembering the

"Seriously, though," Harry sobered. "You need to let me know–"

"No," Draco replied quickly.

"Draco, we're just trying to help."

"I don't need your help."

"You came to us, remember?"

"Harry," Draco said sharply. "I'm not a charity case."

**Sunday, 17th January 1999  
>7:47pm<strong>

He snapped his mouth shut as soon as he said it. Draco eyed Harry carefully– his eyebrows had disappeared into his hair. He sighed. "I just– You can't..." he tried. Harry's lips hardened into the line and his eyes blazed, daring him to continue. Draco crossed his legs.

"I don't want you to save me," he said, finally. Harry exhaled and rested his elbows on his knees. "I know," he admitted. He picked up the ring and flung it at him.

"Take care of it," Harry said, getting up and walking out of the room. Draco sat and watched it until Molly called for dinner.

**Sunday, 17th January 1999  
>9.28pm<strong>

It looked innocent enough, sitting there and glinting under the light hanging over the dining table.

The four teenagers sat together off to the side, huddled together under a blanket. They glanced at each other occasionally, nodding to other members of the order. Kingsley paced through the room, waiting for Minerva to arrive– she would bring the eighth-year students to the meeting tonight.

Bill and Fleur were seated to the left of the table, deep in conversation with Molly and Arthur across them. Doge was conspicuously missing– after his disappearance in 1997, they hadn't been able to find him. Hestia was smiling at him, hand still scribbling at her medical documents.

Kingsley decided to rest lightly on the table, surveying the Burrow. He had been called for a meeting immediately upon his return from the International Magical Conference. He rolled his eyes, thinking of the pretentious celebration of triumph in the face of danger. Flipping through the pile of newspaper articles and letters from Hermione, he grimaced at the damage done in his absence. The Death Eaters would have to be dealt with quickly, but how?

There had been letters threatening the Order lying on his desk when he came back to the ministry. He eyed Harry from his perch on the table, then the ring on the table. He remembered Dumbledore's word before his death, telling them to keep Harry safe. Kingsley snorted at that– it was impossible keeping him out of trouble. They would need to busy them until they could find a guard. To keep them _alive_.

**Sunday, 17th January 1999  
>9.39pm <strong>

A loud crunch announced Hagrid's arrival, accompanied by Mrs. Figg. Finally, he spotted Professor McGonagall duck into the kitchen, pulling off her hat. Harry nodded politely to her, taking her robes and hanging them in the hall. Neville followed through the door with Luna, then Professor Flitwick along with Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, the Patils and Terry Boot. Relieved smiles crossed their faces and they hugged Harry, passing toward the meeting.

"What's Malfoy doing here?" Seamus' thick accent carried through as Harry entered the room, closing the door behind him. A hand caught it and Oliver Wood stepped in behind him, winking and going to stand in the corner with George (who had been making big eyes at Angelina Johnson– they would be married in a month).

Harry surveyed their new order and grinned. Draco had slung his arm around Seamus indifferently, ignoring the sputtering and smiling back. Kingsley cleared his throat and they all turned to face him quickly. He watched Hermione scramble for her parchment to take notes. Professor McGonagall cast several silencing charms before nodding to him to speak. He took a deep breath.

"Right, um, thanks for coming on short notice," he said and nearly smacked himself, wondering if he could sound any stupider. "As you can see, Draco Malfoy came to us last month, and we've been hoping you could help us..."

**Sunday, 17th January 1999  
>10.07pm <strong>

"Harry," Draco hissed at him and Harry jerked back into consciousness. He felt an elbow dig sharply into his ribs and he turned his attention back to the table, only to find all eyes watching him. Dean sniggered and Harry blushed.

Kingsley sighed exasperatedly. "The ring, Harry," he said.

"What about it?" He leaned forward to rest his hands on the table when Hermione slapped them out of the way. He looked down to see the circle of silver sitting just under his hand. He groaned and picked it up by the chain holding up to the light.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said. She rolled her eyes and rested her head on her hand, watching him disinterestedly. "They want you to read it."

Professor McGonagall began to tap her foot impatiently and Harry smiled sheepishly. He peered at it again, looking for the now-familiar text. He froze when he found it, stared at it twice in case and lowered it carefully, biting his lip. Draco put a hand on his arm. "What is it?"

**Sunday, 17th January 1999  
>10.09pm <strong>

Harry stilled and he put it down wordlessly. Draco rested his hand on Harry's arm, looking up slightly worried. "What is it?"

He raised it into the air again. "It's..." he paused, as if searching for the right words. "different. It's changed." Harry looked over, eyes cloudy. Draco nodded, urging him to continue while he cycled through his information about the twin rings. Change?

"Um, here," he pointed to the engraving in the ring. It had two lines now, instead of the single one he remembered it having.

"Go on, then," he encouraged.

"_For __he __who__ escapes __the __dark __fire __will __meet __with __them __born__ of__ the __flowers,_" Harry read slowly, deliberately. He dropped the ring onto the table and pushed it away gently. Hermione held her breath and Ron pulled it over, examining it carefully. They shared worried looks.

Terry Boot piped up unexpectedly. "Isn't your mother's name Lily, Harry?" They all turned to him quickly and he flushed. Draco wasn't sure he had ever heard the sound of his voice. "I mean– it's just a possibility, of course– it could be a prophecy of some sort..."

Harry flinched at the word 'prophecy'. Ron raised a finger, pointing it straight at Draco. "Him," he said steadily. "The dark fire." Draco tensed up and leaned against the back of his chair, eyeing him carefully. Before he could retort, Kingsley spoke.

"_Eclipse__ the __brightest__ light, __for __he __who__ escapes __the __dark__ fire__ will__ meet __with __them__ born__ of__ the__ flowers_. Is that it, Harry? Anything else?" Professor McGonagall had a thoughtful expression on her face, sitting beside Professor Flitwick as he flipped quickly through a book he recognised as Hermione's. Draco felt the tension in the air as they watched him warily, resisting the urge to leave the room as soon as he could.

"Mr. Malfoy," Hestia Jones finally spoke to him. "Could you explain that?" She was kind-faced and polite, taking notes throughout the meeting. Draco hesitated, but he surveyed the faces of the eighth-years and thought better of blowing the accusation off.

"Last year," he began. "Harry saved me from a fiendfyre incident in the Room of Requirement." He heard Harry inhale sharply at that and he smiled reassuringly. "I 'escaped' with them and Gregory Goyle, who is now finishing his education in Durmstrang..."

**Sunday, 17th January 1999  
>10.15pm<strong>

Draco finished his story and Kingsley nodded, face neutral. Harry worried he was missing something important.

"You four will stay here," he instructed clearly. "Guard that." He pointed to the ring. Draco smirked at Hermione and she rolled her eyes, shutting her notebook. Harry pulled it to himself and threw the chain over Draco's head, nodding to Kingsley confidently. Draco gaped at him in surprise.

"Send your patronus if it changes, Harry. Hermione, yours if you find anything about the words," he continued. "Mr. Malfoy, don't worry about this. We'll deal with it." Draco snorted and folded his arms. He knew without magic, he would be useless to the order, but they were so ridiculously _polite_ about it. Saluting Kingsley, he got up and left the room.

"Alright then, meeting adjourned," the deep voice came from the kitchen. Feeling the comforting weight of silver around his neck, he decided to go to bed.

**Sunday, 17th January 1999  
>10.18pm<strong>

As Arthur was about to leave, Harry tapped him and he spun around, a wide smile on his face. "Harry," he said, embracing him. "How have you been?"

"Good," he replied. "Listen, I need your input on something."

"Anything, Harry," Arthur's voice was suspicious, but the gentle smile did not wane.

"What do you know about magic suppression?" he worded it carefully, trying not to tip him off. Harry wasn't sure they had covered it at the meeting.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy? Not much, I'm afraid," Arthur replied, relieved. Harry's shoulders sagged in relief, knowing that they knew. It would be easier. "Why?"

"They might not be permanent, I think," Harry said slowly, trying to help Arthur understand without being told. Arthur raised a questioning eyebrow gently and Harry breathed deep before he continued.

"I think Draco's getting his magic back," he dropped his voice. Arthur's eyebrows disappeared into his hair and he grabbed Harry, leading him to his workshop. Once they were in the safety of the familiar muggle things, he spoke.

"What do you mean, exactly?"

"He can open magical passages," Harry told him easily. "In Malfoy Manor."

"I can't help you, Harry," Arthur denied quickly, sadly. He hesitated before adding, "Remus– he would have been able to." They fell into a silence. Harry picked up a nearby lightbulb and fed it with his magic, watching it light in the dark of the room. Would it be easier if Draco had his magic again?

Harry watched Arthur rub his chin as he considered it, trying to ignore the guilt building inside him. He remembered the statues and the spark of magic in the air that wasn't his– it felt like the magical signature that had taken the ring from Lucius' study. He needed to know.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I think I might actually take plot suggestions to add in for February. Does anyone want anything special to happen? :D


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** This chapter is for **Mister Jackkkk**, who requested the Death Eaters' perspectives.

Please leave me reviews! I love reading them.

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday, 17th January 1999<br>7.38pm**

They all hurried towards the library, feet light on the marble. He pulled his mask down and his hood up, gripping his wand tightly in his left hand as they approached the familiar archway– the doors were standing ajar, swaying gently in the wind passing through the manor. He hissed angrily, stepping up to check the wards.

Perfectly dissolved; their alarms had been obliterated, leaving vague traces of magic flying in the corridors. He nodded to one of his allies, watching them nudge each other. "Hurry," he growled at them, keeping his voice dangerously soft. Crabbe grunted and took a step forward, hurling a curse at the door and testing their boundaries.

They pushed the door further open and entered slowly, wands held aloft. Fenrir's ears perked up, alert. Several voices echoed in the vast space and they spread out, stepping gingerly over the traps to surround the intruders. How had mere children managed to bypass their system? _He_ wouldn't be pleased if they allowed information to escape the manor...

"We have to get out," a voice said. He narrowed his eyes and rose to get a better look at them through the bookcases. If Potter was here, that meant the mudblood and blood-traitor would be with him as well– they would be able to bring them all back for a reward. Raising his wand in the air, he beckoned for the others to follow him. They fell into step behind him, pressed against the wood and carefully shrouded in shadow.

He finally found a clear path and poised to strike, grinning. _He_ would be pleased to have them.

But an alarming shade of blond caught his eye and his jaw dropped open, staring at the back of Draco Malfoy as he brushed his robes off. The boy was supposed to be dead– hadn't Rookwood reported his death in December? He watched carefully, raking his eyes over the figure. He looked healthy enough, but severely underdressed. The mudblood and blood-traitor disappeared with a soft pop and he cursed softly, aiming for Potter instead. They needed to take Draco back with them.

But young Malfoy took his arm and they disappeared with a crass _crack_. He straightened up, muttering to himself and pulled back his hood. Draco was a traitor. _He_ would want to know.

Yaxley turned on the spot and disapparated.

**Sunday, 24th January 1999  
>12.07am<strong>

Draco sat near the window, leaving it open and shivering in the cold night air. Pigwidgeon was scurrying around outside, barely flying out of reach and hooting happily. He smiled at the daft bird, rolling his hawthorn wand in his hands while keeping his eyes trained on the owl. Pig swooped and hooted again, followed by the sharp noises of a mouse dying. Draco winced.

That unfamiliar warmth was strongest now, he could feel it in his fingertips. He had felt slivers of magic seeping back into him, flowing away just as he would grasp a wand to cast spells. Mr. Weasley had been trying to interrogate an answer out of him for days– apparently magic loss was permanent, just as how Squibs had never been able to lift the barrier around their magical reserves. Draco rolled his eyes, resting his forehead against the cool metal frame.

The Weasleys had been so goddamn _polite, _stepping in to perform charms for him, to help with menial tasks like hanging coats_._ He sighed and pushed himself off the sill, sticking his head into the wind. To be completely honest, he was tired of feeling like a pitiful guinea pig. He picked his wand up and tucked it in his pocket, extending an arm to Pig and beckoning him back inside. Stepping carefully over Harry (curled into a tight ball, Draco would never understand how anyone slept like that), he padded toward the bed and pulled the blankets snug around him.

Closing his eyes, he dove back into the realm of fears.

**Sunday, 31st January 1999  
>3.27pm<strong>

None of them moved while _he _drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. He gulped and waited for _him_ to speak.

"You're absolutely certain."

"Yes, my Lord."

"The others?"

"Granger, Weasley and Potter, my Lord."

"And?"

"No one else, sir."

"And the wards?" _his _voice rose angrily.

"Br–broken, my Lord." He cursed his stumble silently and bowed his head further, the hood falling over his eyes.

There was a tense silence and he barely dared to breathe. He kept his head bowed, his knee beginning to ache from the pressure on the floor. His hand on his chest trembled, trying not to betray his fear to _him_.

"My Lord?" he asked quietly. And then the pain struck him.

He fell to his knees, the thud bouncing off the walls. His screams echoed in the chamber and Alecto drew away from him, standing back against the walls. She didn't dare flinch as Amycus writhed on the ground, biting his lip so hard it bled. She glanced warily at _him_ again, then at Nott. Their gazes were fixed indifferently on his convulsing figure and she suppressed the bile rising in her throat.

The way her brother flailed his arms was beautiful, though.

**Monday, 1st February 1999  
>6.26am<strong>

"_Rennervate. Renner– _oh, fuck it. Draco, wake up!"

Draco was vaguely aware of a weight somewhere around his middle and a violent shaking. Cracking an eye open, he stared up into Harry's face blearily. Harry sat back on his stomach and smacked his shoulder, trying to get him fully conscious. Draco couldn't be bothered to shove him any more, it seemed this was the most effective way to get him up in the mornings.

"Potter, you're heavy," he protested weakly, rubbing his eyes. Harry rolled his eyes and leapt off the bed, grabbing Draco's hands and attempting to haul him to his feet. "Come _on_, Draco," Harry insisted. He flinched away as his feet touched the cold floor, letting Harry drag his weight toward the door. What the hell was he going on about, anyway?

The sky was still dark, he noticed. Ugh, that would be why his head was pounding. "It's–" he glanced at the clock on the nearby dresser. "–six-thirty in the morning, you fucker," he mumbled sleepily as Harry grabbed his hand and hauled him down the stairs. His hair was mussed up more than usual, as if he had been running his hands through it again. Draco rolled his eyes, thinking about how Hermione had been passing time attempting to tame the bird's nest.

"Just trust me," Harry said, continuing to lead him down. Draco barely kept up, careful not to send them both tumbling down the stairs. They came to stand in the doorway and Harry nudged him forward, pointing at the ring lying perfectly innocently on the table. He looked between the ring and the clock. Nothing was amiss– Harry had probably finally lost his mind. Draco was too bloody tired, turning to rest his head on Harry's shoulder.

Harry shrugged him off, steadied him and tried to catch his gaze, glowering. "Dammit, Draco, pay attention. The ring's changed," he told him. Draco stilled. His eyes widened and he let go of Harry's hand to cross to the table, snatching the ring off. He held it up, carefully examining the engravings and shaking sleep from his mind. The lines finally came into focus and Draco peered curiously. There was only a single line of text now, shorter than the first.

He glanced at Harry, who was now smirking slightly, and slumped into the chair, pulling the chain around his neck. Harry walked over and dropped in next to him, folding his arms. Draco pulled himself together and turned to him, worried. "What does it say?"

Harry peered at it again, hissing softly.

"Try again," he said, too anxious to get irritated. "In English, please."

"_Patience, Surrender and Sacrifice,_" Harry read again, slowly. Draco nodded approvingly and relief crossed his face. He twirled the ring, spinning it round on the chain and bit his lip, watching the sun begin to rise over the horizon.

"What do you think it means?" he asked softly.

"We've barely figured out the last one," Harry grimaced. They sat in silence for a moment, waiting for the sun to flood the room. The rings were changing actively now, which was probably a sign that the Death Eaters would be on the move to find it again. Draco ran through the previous lines in his head, trying to ignore the familiar wording– like a childhood dream, or a–

or a _memory_. His brow wrinkled, shifting his gaze to the book from the manor.

Harry interrupted his train of thought. "I think we should wait for the next change," he announced. "It sounds like... advice of some sort." He drummed his fingers against his jaw, staring off into the distance.

"I think it's related to the previous lines," Draco argued.

"If we just wait, we'll able to see–"

"Harry, we don't have the time to wait."

"We do, we can't be sure–"

"We'll never be sure, might as well–"

"Even if we knew what the prophecy said–"

"Who said it was a _prophecy_?"

"I think Terry's right–"

"Boot is a cocky Ravenclaw–"

"Will you both shut up?" Hermione moaned softly, joining them. Her hair was sticking up awkwardly, nightdress hanging off one shoulder. She picked a scone off a plate on the counter, munching slowly as Draco and Harry shut their mouths, settling back on the couch. They continued glaring silently, fighting a battle of will.

Draco was sure that the lines were interconnected whether they waited or not. More importantly, they needed to solve the riddle before the Death Eaters could. He pulled his book into his lap, flipping it to the page on the twin rings. He refused to tell Harry yet, but they were translators– they would need to steal the other ring soon or crack the riddle first– so they would need to move quickly.

_It would be in English_, he thought to himself. His memories were cloudy– some had been leaking in his dreams– but he hit a wall every time he tried to remember the ring his father had probably given him on a whim. He frowned, pushing against the barrier harder. It didn't budge.

**Monday, 1st February 1999  
>6.41am<strong>

Ron came in behind Hermione minutes later, stealing Harry's coffee as he sat on the couch with the others. Molly pulled Arthur into the kitchen as well, fully dressed and worry etched into her face. Draco dropped his scowl abruptly and sat up straighter, trying to avoid her gaze. Harry glanced awkwardly at him and Draco shrugged. _You deal with it_, he mouthed back, ignoring the glowering look he received.

"The ring's changed," he turned back and told them without preamble. Ron sputtered and Hermione's head snapped up, slightly alarmed. "Again?" she asked incredulously.

Harry nodded and pulled the chain off Draco's neck, holding it out to them. He was slightly worried– had they already missed part of the messages? How often did it change? He eyed the book sitting in Draco's lap, again flipped to the pages about the rings. Draco was _hiding_ something, dammit, and it seemed important. Arthur took the chain from him and squinted at it, as if the words would translate themselves.

He spoke up. "_Patience, Surrender and Sacrifice. _That's what it says."

Arthur nodded, handing it off to Hermione. They watched her cast several charms on it and finally smiling proudly to herself. Harry snatched the remains of his coffee from Ron and turned to Draco, who had closed his eyes and gone back to snoozing gently, and prodded him awake.

"It just changed yesterday," she said, handing it back to Draco. He grumbled, dropping the ring in his lap. He dropped his head on Harry's shoulder and shut his eyes. Harry looked up at Hermione, who pocketed her wand and shrugged.

"So... what are we doing?" Ron asked the group. Hermione sighed and shared a look with Harry, sitting down on the coffee table.

"We wait," she replied softly. Draco made a loud noise of disapproval and Harry smacked him. His breathing slowed into a slumber, fast asleep on Harry's shoulder. Harry flipped through the illustrations slowly, examining the snakelike text with interest.

**Monday, 1st February 1999  
>9.50am<strong>

The Mark burned Draco awake, Harry clutching his head in pain. Angelina had worked quickly to numb it, looking anxiously at George as Kingsley's message reached the Burrow. They joined hands, smiled sadly back at them and disapparated immediately to assist the rescue.

Then, the silver lynx appeared just as Ron and Hermione were on the way back from the garden, having picked their winter-blooming potion ingredients. Arthur scrambled to secure the wards, everyone retreating into the sitting room. The tension slowly filled the space, choking them all. Molly entered last and held Hermione's hand tightly, eyes welling up with worry. Hermione soothed her gently, mumbling consolations to her.

Harry closed his eyes and let Hermione's voice wash over him. He allowed Draco to rest his hand on his shoulder, trying to breathe deeply, hands twisting in the blanket lying on his lap, tea growing cold. They didn't dare breathe, waiting for the all-clear from the Ministry. They would be ready for battle if it came.

Kingsley's strong voice still echoed in their minds, deafening in the silence while they waited. The clock chimed cheerfully, oblivious to the atmosphere. Ron stood up, groaning, and began to pace, his hands shoved deep into his robe pockets.

"_Andromeda's home has fallen. Seal the wards."_

**Monday, 1st February 1999  
>9.42am<strong>

The members of the Order disappeared in columns of white smoke. He sneered at them, belatedly casting an Anti-apparition Jinx on the remains of the house. They would need to catch the boy if they wanted Potter to come to them, after all. The werewolf cub would prove to be useful.

He sent the Carrows down into the basement to search for the guardian, while he headed for the staircase. He grinned deviously. She would have hidden in the upper floors and they would be together, he knew, slowly ascending the stairs. Of course, they were confident– the woman wouldn't be able to defend the boy against their new spells...

Soft cries travelled through the corridor and he grinned, moving towards them. He pushed the door open gently, prepared to stun them both– only to see the baby passing through the floo. The woman turned and held her wand steady, while the body of the child disappeared.

He snarled at her, backing her against the fireplace. The flames licked at her ankles, dissolving back into the auburn colour.

"Tell me where you sent him," he demanded. He pushed the tip of his wand into her throat, but she glared resolutely, silent, shaking her head defiantly.

"Tell me," he repeated, dragging the tip down to her collarbone. She trembled slightly.

The door slammed open and he whipped around to see Alecto standing there, wand smoking. He raised an eyebrow and she shrugged. "_Crucio_," she whispered gently, watching the woman fall to the ground writhing in pain, biting her lip to stay silent. She crouched by the figure, cooing.

"She looks just like you," she sighed to Amycus, who entered behind her.

He pulled up his sleeve, glaring down at the fresh black of the Mark. It was burning, an angry red tracing it as he delayed.

"It has changed," Rowle muttered, looking up into the sky.

The three turned and left the house, eager to see Yaxley's head roll for this. Theodore Lupin was gone– no doubt to Potter and his silly Order. Amycus grinned at him and they turned in unison, setting the building aflame.

"_Morsmordre,_" he whispered gleefully.

**Monday, 1st February 1999  
>9.58am<strong>

The fire flared green and they all jumped up, surrounding it, wands out. They saw long blond hair stepping gingerly out of it, looking distinctly dishevelled, carrying a small bundle in her arms. Fleur looked up, the gash on her face leaving bloody trails dripping down her chin. Bill clambered through behind her and shut the floo hurriedly, muttering spells too quickly to catch.

Andromeda was not with them. Harry's heart plummeted and he swallowed heavily.

He stepped up to Fleur first and sealed the wound, nodding politely at Bill, who came up and put a supporting arm around his wife. Draco tried to take the bundle from her but she snarled at him, hissing something rapidly in French. The reply came swiftly, cool and collected, while Draco eased it from her arms. She let go reluctantly, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and whispering heatedly to him.

Draco's eyes widened and he nodded tersely, peeling the sheets away to reveal bright blue hair in his arms. Bill caught Harry's jacket as he was about to follow Draco out, dropping his voice low and hoarse. "Listen, Harry," he heaved out, still breathing heavily. "You have to stay _here_, understand?"

"But we've got to–"

"March. Promise me, Harry, not until March."

Instinctively, watching the terror in his eyes, Harry nodded. The others held their ground, pointing their wands at them. He vaguely heard Arthur step forward and check them for impersonation. Seeing the trail of white sheet disappear up the staircase, Harry hurried forward.

"Hey," he finally caught up with Draco, matching his step. He hummed in response, using the end of the cloth to clean Fleur's blood off his face. Teddy's hair was a light blue now, sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of the world. Harry sighed and took the baby from Draco, wrapping the blankets tighter.

Teddy didn't have a family any more.

He looked down at his godson and laughed darkly. Draco looked back, raising an eyebrow and Harry smiled weakly, holding Teddy out. "The Boy Who Lived," he said, closing his eyes and trying to suppress the memories rising through his consciousness. His traitorous mind was clouded with images of the green light, the sounds of his mothers' screams–

"Harry," Draco snapped at him, waving in front of his face. Harry took a step back, nearly sending them both tumbling down, and Draco grabbed his arm hurriedly.

"Focus," he hissed, looking down at the bundle. Harry avoided his gaze, keeping it trained on the soft blue of the hair almost completely hidden. Teddy stirred in his arms and Harry rocked him gently, steadying himself. They needed to settle him into a bed, soon. He continued walking up the steps, shrugging off Draco's hand leaving his companion lagging behind.

Out of the corner of Harry's eye, he saw Draco's gaze soften, carding his fingers through his hair. Harry bit his lip guiltily, seeing the look in his eyes. Draco took the steps two and a time, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder to still him. Harry flinched away, but Draco's grip tightened. "Look," he said firmly, easing the bundle out of his arms and holding him between them. "It'll be different."

"He'll grow up without parents–"

"And he'll grow up with people who love him." Draco's eyes were unreadable. He wrapped his limbs around the baby, bringing Teddy to rest against his chest. He matched his gaze with Harry's wide, shocked eyes– he hadn't expected _this_. He folded his arms defensively, leaning away from Draco. "He has you. And you're not going to let him grow up without that, you stupid Gryffindor."

Harry at him dumbly for a few seconds, not knowing what to say. Draco sighed and continued up the stairs. "We can talk later," he said, dismissing it. "He needs to sleep. Hopefully we'll actually find a bed before he wakes."

**Wednesday, 3rd February 1999  
>8.00am<strong>

The floor creaked and Narcissa gathered herself, arranging her skirts. A large head poked through the door and she exhaled slowly in relief. They were expecting a guest today.

"Mistress Malfoy, a letter for you," the house-elf hobbled into the room, bearing the heavy parchment in his long, bony fingers.

Narcissa extended a hand and accepted the letter gracefully, smiling back. "Thank you, Kreacher." He bowed low and exited quietly, leaving her in her chambers alone again. She relaxed her posture once she was alone, frowning at the letter. Nobody sent post from England to her.

Kreacher had come to her in December, on Christmas day, screaming about his master being missing. She worried herself slightly, bringing her tea to her lips– if the elf was right, her son was with them. If Harry Potter was missing, was Draco safe? Where were they all?

She cracked the seal. The Ministry of Magic? Her brow furrowed again. A problem with the Lestranges, perhaps... She smoothed her face and slid the letter out, surprised at the size of the sheet. It was a short scrap of paper, scribbled on hastily. The penmanship was awful, Narcissa thought, peering closely at the text.

"Oh." Permitting herself a soft gasp, she pushed the letter away and stood, brushing her robes off. Narcissa took a deep breath and set off to find her cousin, who was hiding somewhere in the vast house. She would need to borrow his owl to send her apologies to their guest. She would need to visit England today.

She folded the note neatly and slipped it into her pocket.

_Andi is dead. Theodore with the Weasleys._

**Saturday, 6th February 1999  
>12.01pm<strong>

Harry and Hermione had been left on babysitting duty together again, hands full trying to keep up with him. Teddy was currently rolling on the ground, tangling himself in the blankets, and struggling to break free. When he finally flung the last of the yellow fleece off, he froze, staring up at the two teenagers.

He sat up and giggled happily, smacking his hands into Harry's palms and babbling enthusiastically. Hermione smiled and crawled over, offering him a cracker in her outstretched hand. He picked it up eagerly, passing it between his hands.

"You can eat that," Harry told him, ruffling his hair. Teddy looked up at him with huge eyes, bright green, then back down at the biscuit and poked it curiously, beginning to gnaw on it. He kept his grip tight on his food while squealing happily as Harry pulled him into his lap. Harry grinned at Hermione, wrapping an arm around the baby.

Draco and Ron had gone outside into the garden with Molly, helping her to degnome the garden. Kingsley had finally declared them safe enough to be allowed to roam around their grounds, staying close to the house. (Much to Draco's dismay, Molly had compiled a list of chores he could perform without magic.) Teddy laughed again as Harry conjured a smoky image of a snitch, reaching out to grab it.

Hermione beckoned him over and Teddy dropped the biscuit on Harry's leg, crawling over to her. He sat in front of her confidently, eyes watching hers and slowly changing from Harry's green to mirror her dark brown. His hair was still black, though, even as he pointed to her head, demanding her hat.

She pulled her beret off and gave it to him, wincing as he proceeded to cover it in drool. Teddy was teething on everything he could reach now, grabbing whatever appeared in sight. Hermione looked on sadly, allowing Teddy to munch on her hat, thinking of Andromeda. Her body had been buried properly beside her daughter's, but Hermione knew she wouldn't be satisfied until Teddy had been brought up safe and loved.

A loud groan passing through the doorway announced Draco's arrival, the new weight dropping onto the floor next to her. Teddy turned his babbling on him, eyes sliding to grey and hair to match Draco's– they noticed that he reacted particularly well to him, although they weren't sure why. Draco smiled down at the baby, letting him wrap short fingers around his.

Teddy demanded he be carried, allowing Draco to pull him close. The baby snuggled his face into Draco's neck and laughed again. His breathing was slower now, calmer. Hermione watched them, smiling slightly. Draco was a natural, although no one would let him hear that.

"He smells family on you," Harry said suddenly. Hermione looked up, slightly shocked, pausing to consider it. Draco was supporting Teddy now, who was slowly clambering to his feet and flattening his palms against Draco's cheek.

"That's– that's not quite likely, Harry," she responded, unsure. Teddy hadn't shown any trace of the werewolf traits, seeming more like Tonks than Remus. Draco was his cousin once-removed, it was possible–

"Ow!" Draco yelped, wringing his hand, glaring at Teddy. "I know you've just finished full moon–"

"No, not that. He's not a werewolf," Harry cut him off abruptly.

"I know that," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. After a pause, he reluctantly added, "Fleur said– she told me he gets aggressive. Is that normal?"

Hermione's eyebrow disappeared into her hair. Harry pulled him away, taking Draco's hand and examining it. Sure enough, two clear dents showed up on the back, an angry red against the pale skin. Hermione resisted the urge to laugh. Draco shoved her lightly, turning his glare on her. She calmed and sent him an apologetic smile, healing his wounds quickly. They could find out more about their mini cub later.

Ron dragged himself into the room and slumped flat on the floor. Teddy clambered onto his back and curled up, sucking his thumb. Harry and Draco winked at her and slipped out, leaving Hermione to watch over them. She glowered at their retreating fingers before carding her fingers through Ron's hair and sighing.

Ron was soon rudely awoken by an alarmingly large puddle of spit forming on his back. Hermione desperately tried to stifle her laughter.

**Wednesday, 10th February 1999  
>8.05pm<strong>

Hermione ran in, grabbed Draco's hand and locked her gaze with his, alarmed.

"Draco, you're sure the other is in English?"

He nodded, not sure where she was going.

"Absolutely sure?"

"Yes," he replied confidently, searching her face.

She slumped back into the chair and stared off into the distance, seemingly frozen in horror. He was confused– they had been looking at translation objects for days now, searching for a hint within the books she had taken with her from the manor. What had she found?

Harry entered their makeshift library and pulled up a chair for himself. Hermione grasped his shoulders and trembled slightly. Draco gave up and shut his book, watching the two. Harry glanced sideways at him and he shrugged, waiting for her to speak.

She shoved a note into Harry's hands and he bit his lip, passing it over to Draco. It was Longbottom's handwriting, shaky and unsure.

_Hogwarts under attack.  
>DA are safe.<br>Several missing._

"They'll have chosen a sacrifice," Hermione muttered. Draco's eyes filled with realisation and he pushed himself away from the table, feeling slightly ill. The prophecy had been egging them on insistently, sitting at the back of their heads and pushing them towards... well, _something_, they couldn't quite describe it.

A phase of alarm spread across Harry's face. "We have to go help."

"You promised Bill, Harry, we can't–"

"Our friends need us," Harry insisted.

Hermione sent him an icy glare at that. "Our friends _fought a war_, Harry."

"But–"

"_No._"

Harry punched the wall, shocking Draco slightly. Hermione put a hand out to comfort him. "Harry," she said softly. "We'll get Kingsley's help, okay?" He put his head in his hand and nodded, taking his glasses off.

"Tonight," he said.

**Wednesday, 10th February 1999  
>6.06pm<strong>

He ran a finger down her lovely pale throat, chuckling to himself.

Her blue eyes were wide with terror, the gag muffling the stream of sounds falling from her mouth. It was a shame, really– she was a pretty girl, if not a mudblood. She paled even further as he ran his fingers through her dark hair, unravelling her braid. He would have to style her again, from the beginning. It wouldn't do to look so plebeian.

Tricia? Tiffany? He didn't quite catch her name before he killed her friend– the boy had been rather persistent, intercepting them several times. He was getting in the way, obstructing their escape. He tutted softly, curling her hair with a charm. They had spilt magical blood in the castle, regretfully, trying to bring her out. She was going to be perfect, of course, they absolutely had to take her from Hogwarts.

Regardless of the cost.

He slowly slid the dress up her body, buttoning it up and admiring his handiwork. She would be beautiful by the time Potter came to them– it didn't matter how long they had to wait.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Belated Happy New Year to everyone!

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday, 2nd March 1999<br>11.19pm**

The night air was frigid against his skin. Harry shivered and fished his wand out, casting a quick warming charm. He looked back over his shoulder, seeing Draco dozing on the couch through the window– they were waiting for Kingsley's patronus tonight.

Walking forward, he disappeared into the field and pushed past it. He was tired of waiting, now. It had been weeks, guarding the Burrow, unable to assist the Order. Pausing, he looked up at the moon and sighed– he knew the Order was protecting them, like _children_. And he hated it.

"Harry! Where are you?" Ron's voice called, vaguely audible. Harry turned around and braced himself. He couldn't be sure– _Trust no one,_ Professor McGonagall had told them.

Pointing his wand out, he replied hesitantly. "Over here."

Ron smiled in relief as he spotted him. Harry held his wand steady. "Listen, mate," Ron said. "They found her–"

"What happened to Gilderoy Lockhart in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?" Harry shifted his stance uneasily as Ron's eyes widened. He took a step away from Harry.

"Obliviation?" he answered uneasily.

Harry's wand faltered. "He obliviated himself," Ron continued slowly, not daring to move.

Harry released his aim, walking over to join him. "Sorry," he mumbled. "So, they found her?"

Ron nodded. They had finally managed to locate her the week before, somewhere in Islington– the Order had finally gone to rescue her three days ago. Naturally, the four had been left behind in the safety of the Burrow, protected by the wards. Harry snorted, wondering how long they could pretend that_ he_ didn't fight in the war himself.

"Still alive?" He asked cautiously.

"Died in the escape," Ron replied flatly. Harry winced. "They're guarding Hogwarts, now."

Harry tucked his wand away. "Let's hope that's enough," he muttered under his breath.

**Wednesday, 3rd March 1999  
>4.23am<strong>

Draco was awoken in the middle of the night by a searing pain in his left arm, the mark burning him for the second time that week. It crept up through his shoulder and he cursed loudly, pressing his cool hand to the angry red flesh and hissing as the mark darkened.

He wasn't surprised– Tabitha Jones was dead, now. He swallowed, remembering the time Cedric Diggory's body had been lost; The ache of the torture stayed with his father for days, cursing him as he moved through the house. Bleeding through his clothes, staining the white fabric–

His thoughts were cut off as Harry began to thrash on the floor, his eyes flying open. The scar darkened, too, and Harry pressed his fingers gently to it, turning to face him. "Not again," he groaned, still trying to suppress the pain, pressing his lips together and not making another sound.

They lay in a still, resolute silence until it finally subsided.

**Wednesday, 3rd March 1999  
>5.03am<strong>

Finally, Draco heard Harry's breathing slow down, drifting off to sleep. He pried his eyes open and stared up at the ceiling again, shifting uneasily.

Something was amiss.

**Thursday, 4th March 1999  
>9.59am<strong>

"Harry, I need you to look at this," Hermione said faintly.

Harry held a hand out automatically but Draco snatched it and held it up for them both, dangling it gracefully between his fingers. Harry peered carefully at the text, trying to read it through the tarnished silver. His eyes widened– another change?

"Well?" Draco asked him impatiently, leaning over his shoulder to get a closer look.

Harry passed it back to her, brow furrowing. "_These keys lie in the death of the keeper_," he said uneasily. Draco huffed and leaned against the back of the couch.

"Helpful," he rolled his eyes sardonically.

"Bloody ominous," Ron added, taking the chain from Hermione. "You sure that's what it says, mate?"

Harry nodded. "What d'you think we should do?"

"Wait," Draco told him. "We're always _waiting,_ dammit!"

"So far, that's kept us alive," Hermione snapped, standing. Ignoring Draco's flush, she cast her patronus, letting it nuzzle her hand.

"Kingsley," she spoke clearly. "We need to call a meeting."

She paused slightly. "Tonight."

**Thursday, 4th March 1999  
>9.24am<strong>

He twirled the ring in his fingers, feeling the cool metal dance. They were still protected by a Fidelius charm, hidden in that disgustingly plebeian town. No matter, he thought, closing the ring in his fist. They would be found.

After all, who would be a better keeper than their beloved Harry Potter?

**Wednesday, 10th March 1999  
>7.56pm<strong>

He laughed darkly, robes swishing around his ankles as he stepped through the corridor. "He's with Potter again, is he? Perhaps he needs to be reminded of his _place_."

"If you say it, my Lord."

"Then, you'll find him?" He turns to his friend with glittering eyes. He locks his gaze with the fiery brown, grinning widely.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good," the smile disappeared and he hissed dangerously, turning back down the corridor.

**Monday, 15th March 1999  
>8.00am<strong>

Hermione slammed a book down excitedly in front of Harry, flipping it open. She pointed to a passage filled with annotations, littering the page in Hermione's writing. "Look," she said excitedly. "I found an article here, can you believe it?"

"Where?"

"In the attic," she replied. "There's another case like Draco's here."

Harry raised an eyebrow sceptically. Draco had been trying to use his wand again, feeling it slip away before he could use any of it. He skimmed through the article, eyebrows disappearing into his hair as he read.

"Hermione, I hardly think that 'frequent sex' is going to help his magic," Harry deadpanned, pointing to the text. She flushed deeply, pulling the book away.

"That's not it!" she said, horrified. Harry smirked at her, eyebrows raised suggestively. She groaned. "Shut up, you know I mean the spells."

He gasped, scandalised. "What _kind_ of spells?"

He laughed as she smacked him on the back of his head. Draco came in then with a mug of tea, eyeing them both warily. Harry tried in vain to hold in his laughter as Hermione blushed again, pulling her book back into her arms.

"Draco," she turned to him. "I've found something a bit like yours."

"Like mine?"

"Your case," she said carefully.

He gestured for her to continue, dropping into a chair and sipping his tea. She handed him the book and he read carefully, eyes slowly moving down the page. His eyes hardened as he read, frustration clouding his gaze. Hermione bit her lip watching him, fidgeting.

**Monday, 15th March 1999  
>8.07am<strong>

His eyes came to rest on her writing, scribbled clearly in red ink.

The atmosphere chilled and Hermione stiffened. Draco raised an eyebrow, keeping his voice cool. "_Test_ it?"

She winced. "Someone's, er, agreed to test it for us."

Draco's eyes flashed. "Absolutely not," he bit out coldly.

"It could help us," she protested.

"I said _no,_" he snarled.

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. "You can't _take someone's magic away_, Granger!" he stood up, leaning across the table. "Do you know how fucking _horrible_ that is?"

"She's dying of an illness–"

"I don't care," Draco argued. "It's inhumane."

Harry put a hand out onto his arm. "Draco–"

"Fuck off," he hissed, picking his notes up and leaving them alone. Hermione dropped her head into her arms and exhaled.

"That went well," she muttered.

**Monday, 15th March 1999  
>3.09pm<strong>

Harry pushed the door open.

"_No,_ for Merlin's sake, Granger!" Draco called without turning around. Harry sighed.

"It's me," Harry said softly, moving toward the bed. He leaned against Draco's back and sat in silence, shuffling through the newspapers. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught sight of the sketch in Draco's lap and chuckled, shaking his head.

Draco rest his weight back slightly, breathing slowly. He sat up abruptly and shifted on the bed to face him, watching him curiously as Harry continued to read. He resisted the urge to glance up, focusing on Mr. Ollivander's face– they had recently opened their shop in Diagon again–

"Why?" Draco asked, Harry finally lifting his head to survey him.

"Hermione," he replied vaguely. Draco snorted.

"You're letting her do it." Incredulity tinged his voice. He folded his arms.

Harry set the _Prophet_ aside, running a hand through his hair. "I need to," he replied honestly, giving Draco a pointed look as he fiddled with his wand. "You– _we_ need your magic back."

"I don't _need_ it–"

"That's bullshit and you know it," Harry shot him down. "Why can't you just–"

"Because it's awful," Draco said in a smaller voice. "This," he gestured to his wand lying lifeless on the bed. "Is awful."

Harry leaned back against the headboard. "She wants to," he told Draco gently. "The girl– she wants to help."

Draco lay down on the bed and stared at the wall. Harry patted his shoulder awkwardly. He slowly relaxed and rolled over, looking up at Harry. "You're sure?"

Harry grinned at him. "Yeah," he said. "I suppose I am."

Grey eyes fixed on him again, flickering. "All right," he finally sighed. "When can I meet her?"

**Sunday, 21st March 1999  
>10.29am<strong>

Jones pressed her finger to her lips, turning to lead the way down the dark corridor. They padded behind her, wands drawn as they travelled deeper into St. Mungo's to the Janus Thickey Ward. Draco shoved his hands into the pockets of his borrowed robe, walking alongside them.

Harry offered a comforting smile as they turned another corner. Draco nodded back, turning his eyes back to Jones. They came to stop at a stark white door, out of place in the dark walls of the West Wing, standing out among the shadows. Jones lifted her want tip to the door and it clicked open softly– Draco held this breath.

"She's just awake," she told them under her breath, poking her head into the room.

Hermione stepped forward ad pushed the door open cautiously. Ron wiped his hands on his robe nervously and followed her in, Harry and Draco behind him. They stepped cautiously through the first room, hesitant. Draco gazed cautiously around the white space, plain and empty. He pushed the second door ajar, his eyes coming to rest on the girl, sitting alert in her bed with her bright red hat.

His jaw fell open at the familiar smile on her face. "Elizabeth?"

Her head snapped up, her blue eyes lighting up. "Draco!"

Hermione gave him a questioning look, dropping into a chair beside the bed. She reached out and rest a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "You know him, Lisa?"

She nodded enthusiastically, pushing herself upright on the bed, arranging the sheets around her. Harry rolled his eyes and crossed the room, leaning against the window and shrugging off his Healer's robes. He quirked an eyebrow, curious.

_Later,_ he mouthed to them, turning again to Elizabeth. "What happened to you?" he asked her.

She sighed heavily, picking at the pages of the sketchbook on her lap. "Mother doesn't know," she told them, dropping her voice. "It stopped hurting, though."

Hermione coughed loudly, folding her arms and watching Draco expectantly. The file lay open on the bedside table, filled with incantations– he eyed it wearily, walking over to join the others and resting lightly on the bed.

"Lisa–" Hermione started.

"You haven't visited in so long," she ignored her, talking straight to Draco. "Mother misses you."

"I miss her, too," he said, taking her hand. She smiled nostalgically. "You played so well, Drac–"

"Excuse me," Ron piped up. "Lovely reunion and everything, but we need to hurry."

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed at him.

"No," Draco held a hand up. "He's right."

Hermione glowered at Ron, pulling out her wand reluctantly. Harry flattened himself further against the wall, determined not to laugh. He sobered as Hermione pointed her wand at Lisa dangerously.

Draco breathed slowly as Hermione cast privacy spells around the room, locking them away from prying eyes.

"Right, then."

**Sunday, 21st March 1999  
>11.51am<strong>

Her hand shot out to grab his sleeve just as he turned to leave. Lisa pulled her hat off, the limp blond hair draping limply over her shoulder. Draco inhaled sharply, remembering her thick curls when he'd last seen her in Germany, where her family was in hiding.

"Does it hurt?" she asked him, terrified. Hermione's diagnostic spells still glowed on her skin, an unhealthy green tinting the pale flesh.

He shifted in his robes, fighting to keep his gaze steady. She continued to watch him with huge, innocent eyes. Draco sat on the bed again, squeezing her hand.

"Not exactly," he told her honestly, trying to word it right. "It's just... empty."

"Empty?" She asked, her voice trembling slightly.

He sighed and leaned forward to press a kiss to her cheek. "It's not so bad," he tried to reassure her. "It comes back, after a while. Like a warmth in your body."

She frowned. "Like a balloon?"

He chuckled. "Yeah," he told her. "Just like that."

Lisa hummed in satisfaction, picking up her sketchbook again. Draco absently wondered what it must have felt like to have magic coursing through his veins– he wasn't sure he knew what that was like, any more.

Hermione poked her head in, "Draco, we're leaving," she told him, dropping her voice. He let go of Lisa's hand and offered her an apologetic smile.

"You seem happier," she told him as he got to his feet.

The heavy feeling settling in his chest as he looked at her, arranged in the hospital bed. "So do you," he told her, pressing a kiss to her hair.

**Monday, 22nd March 1999  
>1.34am<strong>

That night, he dreamed of pain.

It hurt, it was bleeding through his pores. It was seeping out of him, leaving nothing but an aching cold behind. He gasped and dropped to his knees as it ate at his skin, drawing away. He dropped his wand in the snow, somewhere–

Rowle was running away, now, laughing. He snarled and dragged his weight forward, ignoring the protests his body cried as he moved through the snow. He reached out for his wand and aimed it at his retreating figure, barely lifting his arm. It _hurt_, searing through his hand as it closed around the wood tighter.

"_Sectumsempra,_" he whispered. The pain rushed forward into the spell, and then it was gone. Rowle continued to run, unharmed. Alarmed, he pushed himself to his feet and ran after him, taking aim again. "_Stupefy!_" he yelled. Rowle turned and grinned deviously, pointing his wand back at Draco.

"_Crucio_," he laughed as Draco's form crumpled again.

Finally, it began to subside, fading away as the warmth touched his skin. Someone was calling his name, someone was shaking him. He forced himself to pry his eyes open, breathing heavily and covered in sweat, thrashing against–

"Oh _god,_ we shouldn't have let her do it," he gasped out. "It hurts, it hurts so much."

Someone was still calling his name.

"He took– it just takes _everything,_ it's so cold–"

"Draco!" the voice cut through, shaking him violently. Green eyes flickered into focus.

"Harry," he said, shocked and still breathing heavily.

"It's not your fault," Harry told him immediately, serious. Draco nodded dumbly, still trying to shake the image from his head. "It's not your fault."

"Right," he got out, panting. "Rowle's."

"Rowle cursed you?"

He nodded.

"You okay?" the reply came, worry in his voice. He was watching him carefully, checking his pulse. "I heard– well, you were yelling, so I got up and..." Harry babbled as Draco caught his breath, rolling onto his side. He felt his heartbeat slow again and put a hand on Harry's arm.

"I'm fine," he told him. "Don't worry."

Harry relaxed visibly. "Okay," he said, releasing him and moving away from the bed. "Let me know if you need anything."

Draco caught his wrist instinctively. "Stay," he blurted.

"Here?" Harry asked him cautiously. "With you?"

"No, no, no," Draco replied, putting his head in his hands. "Just forget it."

But Harry was already sliding in beside him, shifting the blankets around. He grabbed a pillow and tucked his arm under, closing his eyes.

"Good night," he said sleepily.

Draco pushed the thoughts of Elizabeth's bright red hat away and slept, inching into Harry's warmth. He was safe, he tried to remind himself. He was safe here.

* * *

><p><strong>Psst! <strong>This is a short chapter because the next will be the longest so far... Just to average things out, I suppose.

Please leave a review! :3


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** There's a lot of silliness in this chapter. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Monday, 22nd March 1999<br>****11.43am**

"She'll be under morphine, so she can't feel it," Hermione tried to reassure him.

Draco kept his arms folded, glancing between them doubtfully as they crossed into her chamber. Lisa reached out to rest a hand on his arm and took his hand. She pulled him closer, sitting him down on the bed. He sighed heavily, squeezing her hand as she looked on with wide eyes.

"I lied," he told her as gently as he could. Harry inhaled sharply, pressing his lips tightly together. "It's going to hurt you."

"I know," she replied. Draco cocked an eyebrow and she squeezed his hand again reassuringly.

"I read," she told him, rolling her eyes playfully.

Draco forced himself to smile at her. "Of course you do."

"You don't have to do this," Hermione added tentatively. Draco shot her a grateful smile, but Lisa straightened up and Harry laid a hand on Draco's shoulder to calm him.

"I want to," she said firmly. "Let me help."

**Monday, 22nd March 1999  
><strong>**12.35pm**

"I think–"

"She'll be fine," Harry retorted sharply, not letting him finish. Draco had been fretting for the past half hour while they waited outside for Hermione to return, pacing around the room. He gripped his wand between his fingers, knuckles white from the pressure. Harry reached out to take it from him.

"Morphine is so _muggle,_" he whined, snatching it back. "It's still going to hurt her–"

"Why do you care so much, anyway?" Ron dropped heavily into the couch beside theirs.

Draco faltered and slumped back against the couch, throwing an arm over his face. "I don't know," he admitted. Harry sighed and rested his elbow on his knee, grabbing a copy of _The Prophet_ off the table. His scar ached dully, piquing his curiosity, but he ignored it and watched Draco out of the corner of his eye.

"Who is she?" Ron prodded. Harry looked to him, curious. Draco had been avoiding the question, clamming up every time he asked– Harry had been thrown out to sleep on the couch when he had tried the night before.

"That's not important," Draco replied hurriedly.

"That's bullshit," Harry announced.

"Alright," Ron said, sharp. "_What _is she?"

Draco straightened up in alarm. Did Weasley know? Harry and Ron were watching him warily, waiting for him to speak. He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably under their gazes.

"Well– uh, she's a seer," Draco said softly. "Father sent me to her when we were kids."

"Why?" Harry asked him cautiously. Ron snorted. "Trust you to know all the strange ones, Malfoy."

Draco frowned, ignoring him. "I'm not really sure," he replied slowly. "Father said to befriend her."

"Befriend her?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

He nodded. "She– she gave me something for my birthday, when we were four."

"What?" Harry turned to him.

Draco paused and stilled, a look of realisation and horror crossing his face as he searched his memories. He leaned back heavily against the couch, pulling his knees up and biting his lip. Suddenly, he began to tremble.

"Oy, Draco, what is it?" Harry grabbed his shoulder, pulling him out of his reverie. Draco jumped away from his touch.

"I can't remember," he blurted, as if it explained everything.

"You can't remember a lot of things, mate," Ron piped up. Draco shot a half-hearted glare at him, paling dangerously and grasping Harry's arm.

"I can't remember," he told Harry. "There's a– some kind of_ hole_ in there. I can't see inside the boxes."

Harry frowned until understanding dawned on him and his jaw fell open. All his memories of _it_ were missing, weren't they? Was it possible? "The rings?"

"Two boxes," Draco continued to think harder, forcing himself to speak. "But if I can't see inside them..."

"Oh, gods," Harry breathed. They needed to talk to Lisa about them, but–

"Hermione," he whispered. Draco's head snapped around in panic.

"We have to stop her–"

"Um, excuse me, but can someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on?" Ron leaned forward, clasping his hands in his lap. Harry and Draco turned to him, hardly remembering he was still there.

"She must have owned the rings," Harry tried to explain quickly, standing and searching for the door. "Or better yet, made them."

They needed to get to Hermione, they needed to stop her–

"So what?" Ron was oblivious, his eyes still full of questions.

Harry turned, annoyed. "_So,_ Ron, don't you think she would know the prophecy?"

Ron's eyes widened and he opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off. "But she _won't_, because Hermione's about to obliviate her, and–"

He fell silent as Hermione pushed the door open behind him, her hands shaking. Harry grabbed her by the shoulders. "Have you done it?" Ron asked her urgently behind him, willing something to have gone wrong– they needed her, they couldn't have just–

"Yes," she said weakly. "It's finished."

Harry slumped against her and Ron kicked the table. "Fuck," he hissed.

Hermione whipped her head around to him in alarm, wrapping her arms around Harry's waist as he rested his chin heavily on her shoulder, swearing under his breath. "What's going on?"

"We're too late," Draco groaned heavily and dropped his head back against the wall with a loud _thunk_. Harry pushed off Hermione, crossing the room and leaning against the wall. She looked between them wildly as Ron came and took her hand, leading her to the couch.

Harry looked to Draco for approval. With a tight nod, Harry began to speak. "Elizabeth Prince is a seer."

Hermione's brow furrowed and she tucked her wand away into her pocket. "Alright," she replied, wording her response carefully. "What's the problem, then?"

Draco made a loud noise of impatience. "Granger, I think we've just eliminated our biggest lead."

She calmly folded her hands in her lap. "How?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in doubt.

"Lisa's involved–" he tried.

"_How?"_ Hermione cut him off impatiently.

"She gave me the rings," Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, focusing on breathing, telling himself not to shout. Hermione's mouth snapped shut, her face hardening as she locked her gaze with his. She looked between them, expecting someone to tell her they were kidding, that it was alright. Finally, she hunched her shoulders and turned back to him.

Draco nodded. She quickly stood and left, not saying a word.

**Monday, 22nd March 1999  
><strong>**1.27pm**

Ron finally found her beside Lisa's bed, clasping her wrist tightly.

"Hey," he greeted her softly, seating himself beside her. Hermione didn't look at him, slowly stroking Lisa's hand as they sat in a comfortable silence. Instinctively, he reached out and slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

She trembled slightly. "Shh," he said reassuringly. "It's not your fault."

"But–" Hermione scrubbed at her dry eyes. "I could've–"

"None of us knew," Ron told her, rubbing her arm. She quieted and sniffed, turning her face into his shoulder. He squeezed her gently, trying to calm her down.

They looked on at Lisa's prone form, lying limp on the mattress. Her heartbeat was stable– it was so odd, seeing all the muggle equipment in St. Mungo's. It had been necessary, of course, because her body would no longer respond to the magical care she needed. She would die, Hermione knew, and Draco would have to be told. Soon.

"Do you think he'll leave?" Ron asked her.

She sighed. "I don't know," she admitted. "He doesn't have anywhere to go, does he?"

"Harry won't like it if he does, will he?" he chuckled slightly, nudging her. She laughed weakly despite herself, resting more of her weight against him.

"Do you think he knows?" she mused. Ron rested his head on hers thoughtfully.

"Absolutely not," Ron replied after a pause. He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Took us about seven years, though, didn't it?"

She smiled and released Lisa's hand.

"We'll be okay, won't we?" she mused aloud.

"'Course we will," Ron nodded.

**Wednesday, 24th March 1999  
><strong>**4.47pm**

"Who are you?" she edged away, glancing wildly between them.

Draco repressed the urge to kick the chair beside him and Hermione stiffened, keeping her eyes soft. "We're friends," she lied. "Don't you remember us?"

Lisa's posture relaxed slightly, but her eyes remained wary. "Where's my mother?"

Harry rest against the side of the bed. "We don't know," he coughed out. Ron remained silent, folding his arms tightly across his chest. Lisa closed her eyes and leaned back against her pillows.

"Then how are we friends?" she asked the ceiling.

"Your mother taught me the piano," Draco told her. "In your house, don't you remember that, either?"

"I don't remember anything," she snapped, her eyes flying open. "You _know _that."

Just as planned, Harry knew. They would aggravate her, test her raw magic– this was the easiest way. He spoke up. "But Lisa, you've got to know us."

"My name is _Elizabeth,_" her eyes flashed dangerously. Draco looked sadly at her, trying not to betray himself to her. He kept his hands in his lap, desperately trying to push her. He resisted the urge to send her an apologetic smile, schooling his features into nonchalance.

"How common," he forced himself to drawl, rolling his eyes. Elizabeth pulled away from them as if she had been burned, pulling her knees up.

"Draco!" Hermione sounded scandalised. According to plan, he reminded himself.

"I don't know you," she said, clasping her hands over her ears.

"How's your magic?" Harry pushed her further. She pressed her hands tighter, willing them all to go away, tucking her head in.

Ron leaned over suddenly, prying her hands away. "What do you remember?" he asked her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she snarled at him, pulling away. Harry sat by, confused– she was so different from what they remembered, how could she have changed so much overnight?

Ron pressed on. "I know," he said, injecting the authority into his voice. "My friends have flashes too."

She stilled and looked at him, scared, small and alone. Suddenly, her eyes glossed over and she cocked her head to the side, a psychotic smile crossing her face. "_Take the spark and eclipse the brightest light,_" she recited, smiling like a cheshire cat.

Draco dropped to his knees, clutching at his head.

"Go," Hermione shoved Harry. He grabbed Draco's limp form, nodded to her, and apparated out.

**Wednesday, 24th March 1999  
><strong>**8.57pm**

He sat, gripping his cup of tea tightly in his hands as he stared off at the door. Harry sat behind him, leaning against his back– probably writing, again. It was a journal– Sirius Black's, he knew– but Harry was always writing.

"Better?" Harry asked no-one in particular, snapping the journal shut.

"Much," he responded anyway. Draco turned and lay down, splaying his arms out on the pillows. He felt oddly refreshed now, staring up at the cream white ceiling. He didn't mind so much, now. It scared him– was Lisa still bantering with Hermione, even now? Was it different for her, not having the magic she was used to?

"About Elizabeth..." Draco started.

"We really fucked up this time, didn't we?" Harry said softly. Draco snorted.

"Eloquent."

He lay down beside him. "Now we've got the full first line, at least." He sighed. "Some prophecy, this is."

"How do you know it's the first, though?" Draco retorted easily. "For all you know, we were just slow to notice it."

Harry ignored him, tracing patterns of light in the air with his wand. "_Take the spark,_ huh?" he repeated softly, dissolving the light and dropping his hand down to the bed. Draco rolled over and locked his gaze with his.

"Do you think it has anything to do with her magic?" Draco asked suddenly. "A spark."

"I don't know." His voice was resigned, tired.

"We have to find another seer," he told Harry. "I mean–"

"We'll find time, promise. First, we've got to prep this place for Molly," Harry said jokingly, gesturing to their piles of parchment, books and clothing. She would be back in two days, bringing the rest of the Weasley clan with her. "Merlin forbid she sees it all."

Draco smiled. "Merlin forbid."

**Saturday, 27th March 1999  
><strong>**8.07am**

He had just shelved the last book when the sound of multiple apparitions filled the house.

Ron and Harry drew their wands and pointed them warily at the door, Hermione snatching the ring off the table and throwing it around her neck. Draco held his breath as Arthur Weasley pushed the door open, drawn in kind and equal suspicion. Ginevra peeked out behind him, rushing over to Harry.

He reluctantly held her at wandpoint and she backed off, hands in the air. "Harry?" she asked him cautiously.

"Your patronus form," Harry asked her as gently as he could. Draco saw the fear cross her face as Harry continued to hold his aim.

"A horse," she said, panicking as Harry's eyes narrowed. "You've seen it, in Dumbledore's Army–"

"Relax," Draco told her. "Just taking precautions." He pushed the tip of Harry's wand down, leading him out to see the others. They passed Hermione, who had her wand pointed at George– the tip of his digging into her neck. Take no chances. They couldn't afford it.

"_Ronald Weasley!_" Molly screeched and Ron cringed.

"She's probably found the laundry," he groaned, shuffling toward the house.

**Sunday, 28th March 1999  
><strong>**7.14am**

"I hate you," Draco said to Ron, holding his pail.

"Likewise," Ron shot back, his ears turning red. Harry resisted the urge to snigger– Ron was dressed to clean out the broom shed today, with Ginny. Harry grabbed his wand off the table, taking the pail from Draco and heading up the stairs.

"Come on," he called over his shoulder. "Windows aren't going to clean themselves."

Molly had inspected every inch of the house upon their return, much to Ron's dismay. The windowsills were dusty, the bookshelves had insects in them, the carpets had crumbs– now, they would be paying for it all. By hand, she told them. Harry tucked his wand away into his jacket, though– somehow, he felt a sinking feeling creep up on him. His scar tingled slightly, but he ignored it. Who could be in danger?

He heard Draco pad up behind him, catching his shoulder. "Not so fast, Potter."

"Keep up, then, Malfoy," Harry smirked, taking larger strides up the staircase. Draco rolled his eyes, hurrying to match his pace. "Git," he sighed, overtaking him and poking his tongue out. Harry shoved him as he ran past him, winking as he disappeared up the stairwell.

"Draco?" Hermione's voice called from below. "We're leaving now."

"Alright!" he yelled back. Hermione and Fleur would be restocking the kitchen– Molly hadn't been pleased to discover their diet of pizza, sandwiches and instant noodles while they had been in France. The crack of disapparition filled the house as they left the Burrow and Draco felt a pang of jealousy.

Everyone else had been using their magic openly. It was odd– Harry, Ron and Hermione hardly did.

**Sunday, 28th March 1999  
><strong>**7.26am**

"The seer is dead," Rowle said as he entered the chamber, kneeling before him. "It is done."

**Sunday, 28th March 1999  
><strong>**7.26am**

"_Murdered?_" Draco's mouth fell open.

"How?"

Harry grabbed Kingsley's arm, steadying him. They had flooed over as soon as the Death Eaters had fled. "The body? Where is it?"

**Sunday, 28th March 1999  
><strong>**7.27am**

"By the manor," Rowle replied swiftly, tucking his wand away into his robes.

He laughed darkly and turned to Alecto, who had flattened herself against the wall of cold stone. "Carrow," he whispered into her ear. "I want you to find Narcissa."

"Wha– Whatever for, my Lord?" she stammered.

"Tell her that we'll be there soon."

**Thursday, 1st April 1999  
><strong>**3.41am**

He lay with his face in the pillow, feeling the ache spread over his body. Draco didn't dare to move– after two days of work, he was quite sure he would rather stay in his bed forever. He heard Harry snoring softly from the floor, probably curled up in a ball again. Teddy lay beside him, sucking his thumb and sharing his godfather's warmth– from his enthusiastic babbling, he had rather enjoyed the trip.

Teddy would be moved tomorrow– it wasn't safe at Headquarters for him. None of them knew where– Bill and Fleur would be taking him into hiding before they returned for Easter. He just hoped that he would be safe.

Lisa was dead– her blood was all over the floor of her room, but the body nowhere to be found. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat, repressing the images of her murder. Draco had stared at the patterns on the floor, immediately knowing– just _knowing_– that Rowle had killed her, splaying it all over the scene.

The floor creaked randomly and he breathed slowly, keeping perfectly still. Then, a cold feeling spread over his head and he rolled over, snatching his wand off the table and pointing it at the intruder. Ron held his hands up in the air, backing away.

"Malfoy?" he asked, alarmed.

"Weasley," he sneered. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, uh, nothing?" Ron blushed under the light of his wand. "I'll, er, just be going now."

Draco watched him leave, puzzled. What on earth was going on?

**Thursday, 1st April 1999  
><strong>**7.12am**

"Malfoy," Harry shook him awake. "Wake up."

"No," he groaned, pulling a pillow over his face.

"Wake _up_," Harry insisted. "Your hair's purple."

"_What_?" Draco sat up quickly, nearly slamming into Harry as he rose. He groped around for the mirror on his bedside table, staring dumbly into his reflection. His hair was indeed a wonderful shade of eggplant, rich enough to rival Dumbledore's robes.

"What did you do?" Harry asked him, suppressing his laugh at Draco's flush.

"_Weasley!_" He screeched, turning his head toward the door. "What the fuck have you done to my _hair?_"

**Thursday, 1st April 1999  
><strong>**7.15am**

Ron was running from Draco, vaulting over the couch.

"I thought you were Harry!" he protested breathlessly, running. Draco continued to pursue him– "I don't care, dammit! Turn it back!"

"Don't know how!" Ron cried, backing himself accidentally into a corner. Draco walked up to him, his back straightening with an air of aristocracy. It was odd, Harry thought (watching from a distance, thank you very much), that no one else could be standing in their pyjamas and purple hair and intimidate him quite like Malfoy could.

"Oh for goodness' sake," Hermione huffed, dragging him away. She touched the tip of her wand to his hair and the purple bled out, leaving it white blond again. Satisfied, she patted his shoulder awkwardly. "Happy April Fools'."

Ron suddenly let out a yelp as he sat on the couch and George collapsed laughing, seeing his brother jump into the air in pain. Harry handed Teddy off to Hermione and folded his arms, putting on an air of innocence even as Ron got to his feet with his face flushed darkly. The Monster book scrambled away from them and under the couch, disappearing out of sight.

"Harry..." he growled.

"Ron?" he returned easily, smiling.

"I'm going to kill you, mate," he announced, lunging for Harry, who laughed and ran out into the field.

"We'll see, Weasley!" Draco caught before they disappeared over the hill.

**Thursday, 1st April 1999  
><strong>**6.31pm**

Hermione shut the door behind her, leaning heavily against it. There was probably still shaving cream in her hair– George had slathered it over Molly's cupcakes, charming them to explode upon contact. She sighed and pulled a dollop out, dropping it half-heartedly on the floor.

The ring sat on her bed, gleaming. She picked it up and passed the chain between her hands thoughtfully– If Lisa had made them, the prophecy had to have come from somewhere. She had never believed in divination, but it had already saved Harry's life once. She couldn't risk it.

She held it up to the light and stared at the engraving, peering more cautiously. It looked more complicated than normal, didn't it? Hermione rolled her eyes– it had probably been Harry, who had already swapped her toothbrush in the morning.

**Thursday, 1st April 1999  
><strong>**6.46pm**

"Very funny, Harry," Hermione shoved him gently as she dropped into the chair beside him, passing the ring over.

Harry frowned, confused. "What are you talking about?"

She gave him a withering look. "You can't honestly expect me to believe that's real?"

He continued to stare at her dumbly. She huffed and held it up to the dining room's lamp. "Look at it, Harry," she said. "Isn't this yours?"

She nudged him forward and Harry scrutinised it. It was different, yes, but he hadn't swapped anything– "Draco, come and have a look."

"What is it?" Draco said irritably as he came in, his hair now half-coloured a lovely shade of teal. Ron trailed in behind him, snickering as he tried to flatten the blond hair over the odd colouring.

"Did you change it?" Hermione asked them. "I found this on my bed."

"No one's touched it," Ron yawned. "Blimey, I'm exhausted."

"You deserve it," Draco sniffed, folding his arms tight and turning back to Hermione. "I haven't touched it, either."

"I did, though," George piped up, dropping the real one into Harry's lap. Hermione glared and flushed. He grinned unapologetically. "Happy April Fools'!"

Harry picked it up to read, just in case. He dropped it back on the table and turned back to George. "Alright, very good," he said, getting impatient. "But we need to see the real one."

George raised an eyebrow. "Mate, that _is_ the real one."

His eyes widened and he snatched it up again, looking closer at the text. Hermione peered over his shoulder. "What is it, Harry?"

"Change. Again," Harry said softly. "_Shackles of memory broken and lightning struck down._"

"You're in danger," Ron stated immediately.

"We don't know that," Hermione countered swiftly.

"Lightning," Draco whispered, staring at Harry's scar. "You don't think–"

Harry dropped his head into his arms and exhaled slowly. "Why is it always me?"

Ron laughed. "To think this could've been Neville, eh?"

Harry chuckled weakly. "I'm sure we'd all be better off."

"Nonsense, Harry," Hermione rubbed his back. "Where would we be without you?"

**Thursday, 1st April 1999  
><strong>**11.31pm**

Harry lay awake, staring out under Draco's bed.

Teddy was curled up against his side, his electric blue hair shining in the darkness of the room. He wrapped an arm around him, tucking his chin over his head. Harry wasn't sure that he would see him again, if he were honest– Boy-Who-Lived or not. He worried, of course, that his protectors would be like Mundungus– to run at the first sign of danger– or slightly mad, like Lockhart, but he knew that he would be safer there.

Perhaps it were selfish to believe he deserved some peace after the war? He continued to fix his gaze on the box under Draco's bed, absently wondering what was inside it. As footsteps came up the stairs, Harry grabbed his wand and aimed it at the door.

Hermione, to his relief, pushed it open a crack and looked over at Draco's sleeping form. She beckoned him to come out, urgency in her eyes. Harry frowned, but slid his arm from under Teddy, tucked him in beside Draco on the bed and sneaked out.

**Friday, 2nd April 1999  
><strong>**12.00am**

"Draco has to go," Hermione said without preamble as soon as he closed the door.

Harry raised an eyebrow. Hermione lead him further down the corridor, toward her room. "It's not going to be safe here," she continued. "He should go with Teddy."

"No," he retorted. "Nowhere is safe, Hermione."

"Yes," she said, stopping dead in her tracks and turning to face him. "But we're putting him in danger by placing him with _you._"

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

She grabbed his shoulder. "Look, Harry–" she paused, biting her lip. "We think he's dangerous."

"That's ridiculous," he shook her hand off. "How on earth would he do that without a wand?"

"What do you think's going to happen when he gets his memory back, mate?" Ron joined them in the corridor, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Harry turned to him, faltering. He hadn't thought about that at all.

"He'll be able to help us," Harry said after a pause. "His memories– the prophecy, Lisa, the curse– dammit, Hermione, he's useful!"

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself. "I know, Harry," she said softly. "But he _could_ pose a threat– he knows where the Burrow is, he knows our strategies–"

"You've a lot of nerve, Granger," a voice drawled from behind her, sending chills down her spine. Draco stood there, his arms folded and his wand in hand. Harry backed himself against the wall, leaning heavily against it.

"Stay away from her," Ron stood between them, pointing his wand at Draco.

"Ron, don't be stupid," Harry told him, lowering the tip. "He can't fight you– not like this."

"Stop trying to fucking _save_ me, Potter!" Draco snapped. He turned back to Ron. "And even _I'm_ not stupid enough to fight you, Weasley."

He closed his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm going out," he announced to no one in particular. "Let me know when to pack my things, won't you?"

Draco disappeared down the stairwell. "Guard Teddy," he told Ron. "I'm going after him."

"Harry, I'm sorry–" Hermione started.

"You're always sorry," Harry spat, taking off behind his friend, ignoring the hurt look crossing her face.

**Friday, 2nd April 1999  
><strong>**12.36am**

Harry finally spotted him sitting near the small lake, arms wrapped tightly around his knees.

"Draco," he called softly, moving to sit beside him. He didn't respond, watching some birds chase each other in the air before them.

Harry wordlessly handed him a blanket, lying down on the grass. He stared up at the waning moon, enjoying the silence. Draco wrapped it around himself and stretched out beside him, tucking an arm behind his head. He glanced over to Harry, his grey eyes clouded over with doubt.

"Thank you," he chanced, looking away.

"Whatever for?" Harry replied, not meeting his eyes. He didn't have to.

"For believing," Draco said, even softer. Harry hid his surprise, allowing him to speak. He hadn't quite expected the honesty. "In me, that is."

Harry snorted, trying to lighten the mood. "Malfoy, I do believe you're going soft."

"Sod off, Harry," he nudged him with his elbow.

They grinned at each other. Harry patted his arm awkwardly, trying to reassure him. "You're not going anywhere."

"Okay," Draco responded, too tired to care.

They fell asleep out in the cold, slowly moving into each others' warmth. Harry was vaguely aware of Draco's strange strawberry smell, plaguing him even as they plunged into dreams.

**Friday, 2nd April 1999  
><strong>**3.14am**

He looked back the Burrow in the distance, refusing to move. Draco was asleep next to him, curled up in his blanket. He looked peaceful when he slept, the lines on his face smoothing out.

Harry stared up at the moon overhead, thinking of Remus. His first patronus charm, his son– sometimes, he imagined Remus would have been proud of him. "Teddy's going off tomorrow," he said, as if he could hear. "He'll be safer without me."

Looking over at Draco, he absently wondered if he would be, too.

**Friday, 2nd April 1999  
><strong>**1.21pm**

"Bye-bye," Harry took Teddy from Fleur, rocking him. He was asleep, sucking hard on his thumb. Draco stood off to the side, watching them with sharp eyes. He felt oddly out of place, watching Harry fumble with Teddy's overall straps and Fleur's careful teaching.

Ron and Hermione had excused them from the house, stealing away to Aunt Muriel's house to study her magical jewellery. They would be visiting the Ministry in a week's time, down to the Department of Mysteries– the prophecy globes. Draco shuddered at the thought, remembering the last time he had been there– just before his trial, he has been with Nott in the Department of Mysteries–

Teddy began to stir and Harry pulled him in closer.

"Draco," Harry called him over. Draco pushed himself off the wall despite himself, walking over to take Teddy into his arms. He locked his gaze with his and changed his hair to his blonde, giggling and pressing his palms to Draco's cheeks.

"Bye, kiddo," he said, holding Teddy up in the air. "Harry'll miss you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Draco'll miss you too, Ted."

Fleur held her arms up and Draco returned him to her. She tucked the baby into the folds of her cloak, holding him tightly to her chest. "Ready?" Harry asked her, sounding oddly resigned. He was tired, Draco knew– Ted had fallen asleep again.

She nodded, then held a hand to Harry's cheek. "'Arry," she said seriously. "Guard him."

"Excuse me?" he asked her, brow raised and disappearing into his hair.

"Him," she gestured to Draco. "You need him."

Harry shared a look with Draco. He raised an eyebrow and Harry shrugged. "Okay," he said tentatively. "I'll try."

Satisfied, Fleur turned on the spot and disappeared, Teddy's laugh slowly dissolving into the air.

**Friday, 2nd April 1999  
>1.29pm <strong>

Draco sat down on the couch, crossing his legs. Harry dropped next to him and they sat, picking up more books to clear. They had work to do, they didn't have the time to give to sentimental value. Harry kept flickering his gaze to the fireplace, his fingers inching toward his wand– Draco worried, but said nothing. Sometimes, he wondered what the war was like for the Light– always on the move, always smaller, always fighting.

He flipped the page of his book and carried on reading, trying to ignore him. Harry eventually shut his book in exasperation, stood and grabbed his broom, snatching a scarf off the rack and walking off to fly. Draco felt another pang of jealousy, watching him go.

Harry was free, even for a short while.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** The first major puzzle piece makes an appearance! Dum dum dummm!

Please do leave me reviews if you're following it! How do you like the mystery so far?


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **This is the **last chapter** of this section of the story – one out of three major parts. I will probably continue it after a break from Harry Potter writing, then pick up in May 1999 of the story. Thank you to everyone who has followed it so far!

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday, 3rd April 1999<br>****5.30pm**

When he opened his eyes, it was cold– snowing, all around him. Draco frowned and pulled his cloak tighter around him, staring at the empty field surrounding him. Where was he?

A stream of sparks flew past his left ear and he whipped around, staring into Dolohov's face. His eyes widened in alarm and he took a step back, reaching for his wand. Fingers closing around it, he was abruptly reminded of his lack of magic. Draco began to panic–

"Come to the manor," Dolohov ordered him, pointing his wand at Draco's throat.

"No," he spat, feeling uncharacteristically brave.

"Your mother–"

"–is gone," Draco told him. "And so are you."

Dolohov began to laugh and hauled Draco up by his collar. "Are we?"

"Don't touch me," he growled at him, yanking himself free. But Dolohov grabbed his arm again and he struggled to get away.

"Draco," he was calling. It sounded different, but he wouldn't look back–

**Saturday, 3rd April 1999  
><strong>**5.32pm**

"_Draco,_" Harry shoved him again. "Get up, for Merlin's sake."

His eyes flew open and he shot upright, reaching out to grasp Harry's neck. Harry stilled under his touch and didn't move an inch, waiting for him to calm. Slowly, the terror left his grey gaze and he sagged back against the couch, breathing heavily.

"What was it?" Harry asked him carefully.

"Dream," Draco replied vaguely. "It's nothing."

"It's not," Harry retorted swiftly. "You can trust me." Draco had only been asleep for five minutes, dozing off while they waited for Hermione to return home with Ginny and Molly – the Easter holidays had finally come. He had been thrashing, nearly vaulting himself off the couch– Harry sighed as Draco curled up again, not meeting his gaze.

"Snow," Draco muttered grudgingly. "Dolohov."

"Again?" Harry cocked an eyebrow.

Draco rolled over and exhaled slowly, nodding. "Different, this time– like a vision."

Harry snorted. "You're not serious."

"It's not funny." Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah," he agreed. "But this prophecy business seems a _bit_ fishy, doesn't it?"

Draco looked at him curiously. "I suppose," he replied slowly.

"So," Harry said, letting it drop. "A vision?"

"Yeah," Draco told him. "He told me to go back."

"Back where?" Harry held his breath.

"The manor," he snapped, fiddling with his shirt. "Something about my mother."

"Is she alright?" Harry asked him politely. Narcissa Malfoy had, after all, saved his life. Draco fixed him with a look of exasperation.

"Look, Potter," he said condescendingly. "My mother _left me_."

Harry frowned. "I find that hard to believe."

He laughed darkly. "So did I."

The sound of the Ford Angelina began to rattle the house and Harry looked out the window, seeing them approach quickly. Draco groaned and threw an arm over his face, shooing Harry to go open the door.

"Ready?" Harry asked him, seeing Hermione step out of the car.

"For the Weaselette?" Draco returned scathingly. "Never."

**Saturday, 3rd April 1999  
><strong>**7.42pm**

"Neville's gone all soft around Luna," She was telling them over dinner. Somehow, she looked taller now, slightly more freckly. She had chosen to stay in her Hogwarts robes, wearing them proudly at the table. Draco shuddered and stabbed another piece of potato.

"About bloody time," Ron grinned. "It's been ages, hasn't it, Harry?"

Harry snickered and nudged him back. "_'Luna...'_" he simpered. Ron burst out laughing.

Hermione coloured slightly. "You're terrible," she admonished. "I think they're rather sweet."

The Weaselette smiled widely. "Aren't they?"

"Absolutely diabetic," Draco agreed with her, nodding.

Her face soured and she turned to him stiffly. Draco shifted ever so slightly when Harry's back straightened and Hermione looked away. "So," she changed the subject abruptly. "You're still here, then."

Draco nodded solemnly, holding his ground. "Unfortunately so."

"Be nice," Harry said under his breath, nudging him.

"Why are you here, anyway?" She asked him, leaning curiously across the table and locking her gaze with his. Ron coughed and she rolled her eyes, pressing on. "What do you do?"

"We need him," Hermione answered her quickly. He threw her a grateful smile. "He's given us most of the clues, hasn't he?"

Ron murmured in agreement and Draco raised an eyebrow in surprise. The Weaselette leaned back against her chair, shifting her attention to Harry.

"Clues?" she prompted.

"Memories," Harry told her evasively.

"Memories," she repeated. "What good is–"

"Facts," Draco cut her off. Glancing to Harry out of the corner of his eye.

She snorted. "Facts? From you?"

Harry locked his gaze with her and she faltered. "It's just a little suspicious," she mumbled, looking away. Ron coughed and Harry gave him a questioning glance.

"The memories contain more clues than the house does," Draco couldn't resist the urge to continue. "Most of them are at the manor."

He gave Harry a pointed look. Harry shook his head warningly and he fell silent as Arthur and Molly joined them, dropping their shopping at the end of the table. Arthur clapped his shoulder as he walked by, smiling warmly. Draco felt an uncharacteristic spread of warmth in him, looking at the Weaselette again. He would definitely _need_ it.

**Saturday, 3rd April 1999  
><strong>**11.57pm**

"You know where my mother is," Draco said without looking up as Harry came in. He had his nose in the French book again, running his finger down the page and muttering to himself. He flipped it sharply, annoyed. Harry ignored it.

"What?" Harry asked, unsure. He folded his arms and leaned against the door, looking at him suspiciously.

"My mother," Draco repeated, rolling his eyes. "You know where she is."

"No, I don't," Harry told him, his gaze honest. "Why would you think so?"

Draco looked up and met his eyes. He seemed to search Harry for a moment, looking for a sign of deceit. But he sagged back against the pillows– he had of course been expecting that. Narcissa had disappeared clean off the face of England – Merlin knew where she was hiding. Perhaps, with her relatives in Ireland?

"Why?" Harry asked again, carefully.

"She knows," he told Harry, fishing it out of his pocket and holding it in view. It had slowly begun to rust – George had accidentally drenched it in potion on April Fools' Day. "She'll know about this."

Harry looked over the ring, looking distinctly exasperated by the sight. Dirty silver, nothing more, the parseltongue engraving. Over and over again, nothing changed when they wanted it to, surprising them when they least expected it. He absently wondered how effective a protean charm was, and considered the possibility of a spy.

They hadn't called a meeting yet. It was too dangerous, most of the Order was in Asia. Harry took the chain from Draco and stared at it, willing it to write more clues into the metal.

Hermione had taken to keeping a log of changes, casting a set of spells every morning. Draco didn't think there was much use– it hadn't changed at all since two days ago, she seemed to be chasing geese trying to figure it out.

"Have you tried writing her?" Harry asked, dropping his weight on the bed. "Your mother, that is."

Draco shot him a look of incredulity. "I don't have an _owl_, Potter."

"Ask," Harry shot back, face hardening. "Ron's got Pig–"

"Poor bird will probably perish in the rain," Draco replied scathingly.

"He'll be fine."

Draco paused and searched his eyes. He looked tired, worried– the Weaselette had kept them up all night in their little family reunion, Draco knew. But his mother, she was probably safe – he didn't care. Not enough. "No," he said finally.

Harry made a noise of annoyed protest. "Why not?"

"I don't want to know if–" he paused and took a deep breath. Harry looked at him worriedly and Draco held up a hand to stop him, pushing forward. "If she's dead."

"Oh," Harry said softly, crossing the room and settling into his bed on the floor, his expression unreadable. "Alright then."

Draco rolled over and closed his eyes, forcing himself to sleep. Harry began to snore long before he even drifted off, setting a comforting atmosphere. As long as he was there, he would be safe. He slowly surrendered himself to unconsciousness, pushing the thoughts away from him and walking straight into slumber.

He dreamed of his mother anyway.

He wasn't surprised.

**Sunday, 4th April 1999  
><strong>**12.00am**

Hermione pushed away from the door. She had heard enough.

She padded away down the corridor and went to the kitchen, grabbing an envelope off the mantlepiece. She had to warn her, it wasn't time. Not yet. Hermione scribbled _her_ name on the envelope and sealed it, not bothering to write a note. _She_ would understand, she would know.

"Pig," she called softly, fetching the owl from his cage. "I need you to take this to France."

The owl looked at her with huge eyes and hooted in understanding. She sent him out the window and gazed sadly until he flew out of sight. She supposed she could only hope that someone didn't shoot him down on the way to his destination. She winced at the thought.

It was simple enough, she knew– the letters they had sent Hedwig off with to 'Snuffles' had all returned to them, completely unopened. Sirius Black was dead, of course, they had known– they knew the letters could not be delivered.

Hermione searched fruitlessly for Pig in the sky, long gone.

It was alright, she told herself. Narcissa would receive them – hopefully, Harry would never know.

**Tuesday, 6th April 1999  
><strong>**7.28am**

_Muggle village attacked in Hampshire._

_Twenty dead. One missing._

_- H.J. _

**Tuesday, 6th April 1999  
><strong>**9.45pm**

She was under polyjuice, he knew. A young muggle girl, redheaded and tall– she carried herself with far too much grace for her clothes, but he knew this was the only way they would locate the base the fastest. The village's people were darling, really, offering them their muggle treasures in order not to hurt them.

"We are ready, my Lord," Alecto bowed deep, her hair grazing the marble floors.

"Excellent," he replied, folding his arms and leaning back into the comforting leather of the chair. He crossed his legs and smoothed out the silk, watching him with his same cool gaze.

He tented his fingers. "I want it completely destroyed," he said lazily. "Every last shred of it."

"Of course." She rose to her feet and pulled her sleeves over her mark, hiding her terror. "Nothing less."

**Wednesday, 7th April 1999  
><strong>**3.11am**

The bird was injured, hardly able to fly through the window before collapsing on the floor. The envelope was burnt, but she could barely make her name out on the front. It was Potter's writing, she knew– but how on earth had he broken the charm, unless Granger–

"Ah," she sighed aloud.

She lifted a piece of parchment off her desk, smoothed her nightgown and held the quill steady in her left hand, struggling to write it clearly. She couldn't afford to write it with her right, Draco would probably recognise it. They needed him to stay safe, to stay hidden.

_Safe._

Narcissa sent the note off with the small bird after healing its wounds, feeding it a treat for its trouble. She prayed Draco was with them, guarded. With friends. She hoped Granger knew what she was doing.

**Wednesday, 7th April 1999  
><strong>**3.11am**

"Harry," Draco was shaking him awake urgently. "Wake up, come on."

He pried his eyes open blearily and stared into the grey gaze, squinting to focus. "What?" he mumbled out, barely able to see his outline.

"Grimmauld Place," Draco heaved him upright and handed him his glasses. He pushed Harry to get to his feet, passing him the nightgown draped over the end of his bed. "It's Kingsley."

"Kingsley?" Harry yawned, slipping his glasses on.

Draco made a noise of annoyance and grabbed his wrist, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Yes, Potter, Kingsley."

"What on earth for?" Harry mumbled, sleepy.

Draco took a deep breath and grabbed Harry's shoulders to steady him. "We've been attacked."

**Wednesday, 7th April 1999  
><strong>**3.13am**

Harry suddenly bolted upright, staring at him, horrified. "What?"

Draco lead him out the door and down the stairwell. "It's– well," he stammered. Harry cocked an eyebrow, following him suspiciously. "You can ask him yourself."

His steps were urgent leading Harry down the corridor, his posture immaculate. He seemed distressed, but Harry wouldn't say a thing. They rounded the corner and Kingsley came into view, spread out on the couch and nursing a wound in his arm. Harry bolted over, alarmed. "What happened?"

"Harry," Kingsley rasped. "Grimmauld Place..."

He nodded for him to continue, holding his breath. Draco kept a hand on his shoulder.

"It's gone. Burned down," he said. "And the dark mark."

Harry's mouth fell open. "Who–"

"No," Hestia piped up, offering him a small wave when he turned to look at her. "No one died. We're sure of it."

"Right," Harry said, turning to Draco. "And?"

"Nothing's left, Harry," Hermione spoke up, covered in ash.

"You went to– oh, _God,_ Hermione," Harry breathed, catching sight of Ron. "Both of you."

"You were asleep–" Ron tried.

"I would have wanted to help!" Harry snarled. "For Merlin's sake–"

"Calm down," Draco hissed in his ear. "You're not helping."

Harry fell silent and breathed heavily. "Okay. Okay, now what?"

"We'll have to guard the ring, obviously," Hermione stated. "We think they burned it because it was missing."

"Of _course_ they burned it because it was missing," Harry said scathingly. "That much is obvious."

"Also, er– we had to take your invisibility cloak, so," Hermione held it out, an apologetic look crossing her face.

Harry's eyes sharpened. He reached for the cloak and folded it in his arms, absolutely silent. Draco took a step back as Harry whipped around swiftly, stalking up the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Draco called after him, not turning around.

"Up. I need air," Harry responded bitterly. Then, he swept the cloak over his shoulders and disappeared.

**Wednesday, 7th April 1999  
><strong>**3.18am**

The sound of the door slamming above resounded through the house. Draco sighed and leaned against the wall. "That went well," he nodded to the rest of the room.

"I'll go after him," Ginny volunteered.

"No," Hermione stopped her. "Not now."

They glanced at each other warily around their makeshift circle, not quite raising their heads. Hestia cleared her throat and Ron shifted his weight between his feet, unsure of what to say.

Draco watched them all, rolling his eyes. He pushed himself off and moved toward the staircase. "_I'll_ go," he sighed.

Ginny pressed her lips together until they were white, not saying a word as he left. Hermione rubbed her arm comfortingly and they nodded to him. He took a deep breath and ascended the stairs, cringing at the thought of Harry on the roof.

**Wednesday, 7th April 1999  
><strong>**3.25am**

He had been resolutely ignoring Draco for a good five minutes now, staring out into the field. Harry was sure Draco was freezing, but he wrapped the invisibility cloak around his shoulders and continued to hug his knees, ignoring that, too.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Harry asked no-one in particular.

"You dreamt of your mother," Draco replied after a long pause. "You were calling her name, I couldn't wake you."

Harry chuckled. "I know," he said. The dreams of Lily came more often now, more vivid– especially since Snape's memories in the war. He wouldn't ever forget. He turned back to Draco.

"But so did you," Harry shot back casually. "You cry, sometimes."

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "I do not."

Harry turned to face him properly, fixing him with an unreadable gaze. "You do." He paused and quirked his lips thoughtfully into a smile. "And it's okay."

Draco exhaled. "I'm sorry," he admitted softly. "You should've gone–"

"It's fine," Harry cut him off sharply, turning his face away. "It's over."

"It's not," Draco protested weakly, imagining the dark mark floating above Grimmauld Place. "Not yet."

* * *

><p><strong>I really hope you've enjoyed it so far, I promise this isn't the end of the story! I just really need to focus on other work right now, and this is a nice way for me to tie this arc up. Love you all!<strong>

Till next time!


End file.
